1 10 5 https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/ca3f093d45dbd21041e07cdcba3485d3.pdf?Expires=1784764800&Signature=P74SXv4BubRsGI85EK0UaPtPQNb2n%7E%7Et114C4UFXfbukVgEwWcMMb5T0pZmeTwtzH08cYl4Y-YzZ%7EJqzZ88BuAFuZ1nPUSLYK8FJynlZwPd0zztN3oirTzfruZmbjxpDA96QVbGbFW0lur4hW0nYSEgjgTtvhrWTPxvgku%7EvubjVhpwqF0VBTBE7Si2hRlxlo-wL4grXq%7ENxRadwAFklX4t0UiAdYT%7E9zW5jkjpSX0NDtdY31opajRPY%7ERoblrXlRkH1puidwe1LYluMR0KRIfksr4S3mo3AtvBl%7EwigaBXaHdcvqpHAydCh7zxK11Jhch6dh906%7EO8hpV89cqHfJQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 174e853deed951f4ef66ff33d12dcbbe PDF Text Text THE CRIMINAL’S ASCENSION A DISCOURSE Given March 2nd 1879. BY MONCURE D. CONWAY, M.A. MINISTER OF SOUTH PLACE SOCIETY, AND AT THE ATHENASUM, CAMDEN ROAD. FRIGE TWOPENCE. ��THE CRIMINAL’S ASCENSION 3 n| o' o' i ûj: ñ d : : if! to ig rfzn sf> )la fid To a rational eye it would be difficult to picture a more startling, scene than a man with the hangman on one side preparing to strangle him, and a clergyman on the other promising him bliss at God’s right hand. But no eye can rationally take in at once a scene so familiar. It requires patient analysis to discover the full significance of a situation in which human society by one officer decides that a man is unfit to live on -earth, by another officer pronounces him quite fit for the society of the beings it worships. In the majority of modern executions, the gallows has been looked upon by the criminals as a stepping-stone to eternal glory; and no clerical voice have I ever heard denying their probable ascension to Heaven. Theology still represents a Christ saying to the malefactor, “ This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.” The old story was recently repeated when an exceptionally base criminal exclaimed, “ I am going to Heaven/’ �4 and the chaplain said, “Lord Jesus receive his soul.” I am glad to observe that the public conscience is shocked, and common sense recoils. Such ever-recurring facts reveal a fearful chasm dividing the practical needs of man from the alleged requirements of God. They disclose the awful fact that “religion” and morality use totally different weights and measures. The vilest scoundrel to one may be a saint to the other. What moral laws pro­ nounce a life of villainy outraging man and woman, “ religion ” says may be outweighed by a few moments of prayer to God and compliments to Jesus. I think it is not going too far to say that it is impossible for the masses of a community to obtain any apprehension of the real nature of crime, so longas the religious instruction provided for them teaches that the supreme rewards of existence are attainable without reference to life and character. It does not materially affect the case that the Ten Commandments are solemnly repeated. The power of any law to control human passions depends on the sanctions it carries; and these sanctions are penalties. A whole code of mere remonstrances against theft were vain. The Decalogue, so far as it is enacted law, is powerful simply because a punishment is affixed to each com­ mand. But if the Legislature should provide that every individual violating any law might escape its. �5 < penalty by kneeling before the Queen, it would be equivalent to abrogation of the law. Society could not exist under such conditions. The moral sentiment of a community is not repre­ sented by its lawyers, but chiefly by its religious teachers. The law-books represent certain practical interests of society which may be of moral importance, but may not. One law preserves the life of a pheasant, -another the life of a man; the same code punishes fictitious offences, like fishing out of season, and immoralities. It is a business-like matter, and, were there no moral or religious sentiment, a man might take his day of sport out of season, or his neighbour’s property, and run his risk, and feel no worse morally for either. There are indeed moral forces that can supplement social laws, forces that for some wield heavy rewards and punishments. There are men and women who live lives of honour, honesty, and virtue with as little reference to the law-books as to any future world. But, unfortunately, for the less refined but more tempted masses of the world, all the moral induce­ ments to self-control are rendered nugatory by a sacred system which transfers the sanctions, the ■rewards or penalties, from moral action to a ceremony, to a motion of the lips, to that last abjectness of .arrested villainy called repentance. �6 The voice most authentic to the masses says tothem,—In the name of God we declare to you that no merits of your own are of any importance in His eyes. He sees not as man seeth. Your thefts, murders, adulteries, cruelties, and general baseness, may be to man of vast importance; but to God the one question is, do you believe in his Son or not ? If you do, the crimes, scarlet to men, are to Him white as snow. Shew by kneeling, praying, accepting Christ as your ' Saviour, that you are all square towards God, and it matters little what the world says and does to you. What need one care for men if God is for him, and Jesuswaiting to take him to His bosom ? Fear not them that kill the body and after that have no more that they can do, but fear Him who is able to cast both soul and body into hell fire 1 Those who have been liberally instructed mayimagine that I am stating too strongly the voice that goes forth to the masses in the name of religion; but, in truth, I am stating not only what is largely taught, but what is the necessary sense of all teaching, however interlarded with morality, which gives man as his highest end and aim something unconnected with morality. However disguised by and for the cultivated, to the masses it must mean that at last. There is in every mind in the country which has not out-grown it a formula called the Plan of Salvation. It is declared by every �.7 church, every sect—substantially the same, under superficial variations—to be a scheme formed by God for raising man to angelic perfection, divine virtue, eternal joy. And in this Plan of Salvation no provision is made for morality. Not one item in it refers to morality. Morality is not made a condition, nor im­ morality a disqualification, for its full enjoyment. Its conditions are confined to repentance for an ancient personal offence—not a moral offence—committed by Adam to his Maker, and an acceptance of a human and divine sacrifice offered for that sin. It is a corol­ lary of that Plan that no amount of crime can prevent him who uses the charm from summoning the Holy Ghost to his side, and enjoying all the favours which God can bestow. This Plan of Salvation may appear to you so irra­ tional and immoral as to excite wonder how any one can believe it, and doubt whether any human lives are really practically guided by it. And this, indeed, is the vital point. Our question is not whether this notion of Salvation be really true, but whether it is genuinely believed by those most tempted to evil, and least surrounded by refined restraints. My own con­ viction is that no system could be conceived more exactly adapted to the rudimentary reason of the ignorant, to the pauper sense of justice, and none can so readily explain to the suffering masses the hard lot �8 in which they are cast. In their hereditary disease and despair, they have daily proof of hereditary sin; the pedigree of their sorrow may as well go back to Adam as to their grandfathers; they suffer for sins ' they never committed. And how shall they be saved? Is it reasonable to say they can only be saved by being moral, virtuous, honest, self-denying, truthful? Would it be just in God to set on Heaven a price they cannot pay ? By his decree their lot is amid ignorance, vice, temptation, grossness; how then can he demand a harvest where he has not sown ? The so-called Plan of Salvation is an evolution out of ages of superstition to meet just that low state of mind, that hard lot of the ignorant and suffering, of which the intelligent and the happy have little conception. High ethical science has no meaning for them; but it appeals to their sense : of right that their Maker should make Heaven as cheap as earthly happiness is dear. It seems but fair to them that one of the Godhead should bear the guilt of all their sins, which grow out of that vile lot which the Godhead arranged. They did not choose a life down in the social mire. They do not feel the guilt of the immoralities besetting that lot; and they listen favour: ably to the preaching which tells them they will go, : like the penitent thief, straight from the prison or the scaffold to the side of Jesus, there to be equals of the proudest and greatest who despised them on earth. �9 So runs a hymn— “ Let the world despise and leave me, Once they left my Saviour, too.” In the course of its long experience, Roman Catholicism had found the danger of this notion, and the necessity of modifying the bold dogma of salvation by faith alone, and had devised a purgatory. It said to the evil man that he might be saved eventually, however wicked, but in proportion to his bad conduct would be the length and severity of his purification after death. In the course of time, this dogma of purgatory lost its value, deliverance from its pains being offered for money, and Protestantism threw away not only the theory but the experience of ages which underlay it Protestantism offered the whole world of men the indentical salvation, irrespective of their merits or demerits. Nay, we cannot disguise from ourselves, however divines around us may try to disguise it from them­ selves and us, that the logic of Protestant Christianity goes even farther, and necessitates the position that mere morality is a danger to the soul. The man of cultivated reason has been found likely to trust his reason ; the man of good works has a tendency to trust to his good works ; and such have been proved less amenable to the plan of trusting solely to the divine scheme above reason and to the merits of Christ. Under pressure of this experience, the sects have been �IO reduced to the necessity of building up their strength from those less addicted to reason and to good works, and have evolved the doctrine that God looks with special favour on the mind that fancies itself humble when it is only uninquiring, and the character which confuses its weakness with dependence on Christ. This positive discouragement of the formation of . self-reliant and moral character has, unhappily, found a means of diffusing itself which theology could not command,—namely, by hymns. Those especially of | sects that deal with the masses are pervaded with I contempt of good works. The Wesleyans sing— ‘ ‘ Let the world their virtue boast Their works of righteousness; *• I, a wretch undone and lost, Am freely saved by grace. Other titles I disclaim ; I I | | I | This, only this, is all my plea— I the chief of sinners am, But Jesus died for me.” This special claim to Jesus’s favour—that one. is L the chief of sinners—has passed to many hymns, from I t the Bible. Unhappily, there is much in the New Testament, when detached from its own time and place, to confirm the faith of the coarse and ignorant in their miserable conceit. Their teachers have perverted the liberalism of Christ and Paul to these Iy |& L L �II meanest ends. Christ, in trying to do away with the bigotry around him, seeking to expand Jewish minds so as to include Samaritans, Greeks, Romans, as children of a divine Father, sought to win them to charity by sweet parables. He told them of the mer­ chant who paid so largely for the pearl ; and what - pearl was more beautiful than Greece ? He told them of how the woman rejoiced when she found the lost coin, the shepherd when he found the lost lamb, the father when his prodigal son returned. All these were pictures of the hated Gentiles. They are our lost sheep, taught Christ, our wandering brother; if they will mingle with us, let us not repel them—rather we will kill the fatted calf and make merry, because the lost is found. And in his enthusiasm he may have said, 11 There should be more joy in our new kingdom over one such returning wanderer—one fraternal Gentile—than over ninety-nine that never went astray from the true God after images.” When these poetic metaphors were written down in the doctrinal period—in the Gospels—Jesus was more than a hundred years dead, Jerusalem was destroyed, the parables had lost their special point, and so the moral was made universal and false by saying,“ There is joy among the angels over one sinner that repenteth more than over ninety-nine just persons who went not astray,” a text either absurd, or a direct encourage­ ment of vice. �12 According to that text the roughs of England may not only behold in that chief of sinners, who ascended at Sheffield, a hero bold, who long defied Great Britain, and, when overpowered, died happy, but they may also see him causing an equal commotion among the angels, though one of delight, as they leave the humdrum souls who never went astray to rejoice over this dear, daring, sensational fellow, whose salvation illustrates the potency of divine magic so much better than that of a mere moral man. Paul has been put through the same process of per­ version as Christ; his admirable statements for one situation wrested for another, and stereotyped into dogma. In furthering Christ’s broad inclusiveness j Paul had to confront the new difficulty that his J ewish brethren were disposed to insist on the Gentiles sub­ mitting to their ceremonial law. They were willing i to receive the Gentiles as returning prodigals, but | they must consent to obey all the regulations of the father s house that is, the house of Israel. To this the Gentiles would not submit; and it cost Paul the labours of a life, and all his resources of eloquence and art, to persuade the Jewish wing that a common faith in Christ was all-sufficient without exacting from Greeks and Romans the deeds of the law—that is, of | j j j I I I course, the rites and ceremonial deeds of the Jewish religion, circumcision and the like. When this argu- I | �x3 8 ^1 3>| 2j 4 st & bi sj ill £>l ment was detached from its point and purpose, when it was read letter by letter by the eye of bibliolatry— as little able to see its whole meaning as a fly the statue over which it creeps—Paul’s “ deeds of the law” were supposed to be the moral law—English law; not circumcision and Sabbath, but laws against theft and violence; and so Paul was brought at last to sanction the dogma that men are saved by faith in Christ, without requiring any good deeds, or con­ formity with human laws. It is greatly to the credit of human nature that this .kind of teaching has not utterly corrupted Christian society. If human nature had been half as bad as theology says, the Christian name would to foreigners have been synonymous with barbarism. But a great many influences have intervened between the dogmas and large numbers of the people—the saving grace of common sense, pictures of virtue and vice on the stage—these and other forces too complex to be now considered have supplied some counterpoise to dogmas that despise human merit. But there is a yet very large class which may be called the potential criminal .class—and against that class society is left with no defence but that of superior force. It is a. war for ■advantages to the burglar, the murderer, in which he :may be defeated, but in which he does not feel much /disgrace or guilt, if any. His life is being lived in a �general way under the necessity that knows no law, and particular crimes are mere accidents in the current that masters him. And he will remain somastered—without conscious responsibility or guilt—■ until a will is stimulated within him by some motive of action stronger than that which tempts him. Now, what is to stimulate in a person of strong appetites the will to control those appetites ? Remember, our problem now is not that of punishing crime, but of how to keep people from committing crime. Can Christianity do that ? What are the motives to which it appeals ? Judgment Day and eternal Hell ? Now, these would be very strong if they were penalties for immorality, but Christianity repudiates that idea. Hell it declares is for those who forget God, or donot believe on his Son. Consequently the criminal may snap his fingers at the Day of Judgment. Hell is a mere display of fireworks to the man who is insured against it by the blood of Jesus. Charles Peace, on the morning of execution, arose from pleasant sleep, breakfasted heartily, then sat down and wrote as follows :—“ To my dear wife and family,—I tell you this great joy that I could not tell you yesterday. No fear now, for it is all cleared up as to where I am going to. I am going to heaven, or to the place where the good go to that die in the Lord; or where is the place appointed by God for the good to wait �i5 until the resurrection of the dead. So do not forget! Our meeting place is in heaven. So do come at the last and you will find me there. This letter is wrote25 minutes before I die, so I must say good bye to all. I am going to heaven.” A few moments after he is on the scaffold preaching to the reporters, says he is going to rest with the good till Judgment Day, forgives his enemies, and says, “ I wish them tocome to the Kingdom, to die as I die.” That is hisbest wish for us all, to die as he died ! And that iswhat Judgment Day and Hell amounted to in the eyes of this criminal. But what other motives canChristianity arouse now that it has enabled the criminal to quench Hell with a drop of Christ’s blood? It may say that it sets before him the life of Christ,—the perfect life,—-and so makes an affecting appeal toall the good in him. Be like Christ, it says. But that ideal too it destroys by declaring Christ to be God. The criminal is not a god. The virtues of a god are no example to him. So far as Christ was a man his expe­ riences are not attractive. We are now in Lent, and Christendom recalls a poor man wandering in a wilder­ ness 40 days, cold and hungry, resisting all temptations, to get his living by evil ways. From a loaf of bread to the kingdoms of the world, all the temptations were offered him and resisted. What did he get by it ?* A gallows. He might, to the criminal mind, he- �i6 might well envy the happy end of our latest ruffian. One sacrificed himself for others, and at execu­ tion cried, “ My God, why hast thou forsaken me ?” the other sacrificing others to himself, exclaims, “1 .am going to heaven.” So far as the virtuous, selfsacrificing, human life of Christ is concerned the re­ ligion called after him goes into the criminal’s prison, and in a few moments enables him to show vice tri.umphant, beside virtue agonizing on the cross of its own Saviour. So it is on earth; and Christianity .assures the criminal, converted after he can sin no more, that heaven has the same place and rewards for the life of crime and the life of virtue. He gets .after a life of evil just what Christ gets after a life of moral excellence. There are many Christians who me moral, many who are wiser than their creed, but -they cannot alter the remorseless logic of their system. Either it is the blood of Jesus that saves men or it is not. If man is saved by the sacrifice and merits of Jesus, then he cannot be saved by his -own merits or sacrifices. Consequently, so far as eternal bliss and blessedness are concerned, he may do without any merits or morality at all. And in this claim, the very basis of Christ’s atone­ ment, lies the fact that the criminal mind finds in rthe orthodox system precisely its own method. For what is the criminal mind ? It is a mind which seeks �to gain advantages without working for them,—that .it is, without fulfilling the conditions with which justice- 'di to others surrounds them. The criminal mind seeks iri nothing that may not be fairly sought. This miser­ able man, just executed, wanted beauty in dress, a He:ai is quite credible when he declared that he never fit? harmed living creature except when they were inter­ fering with his appropriation of things he desired. No man loves crime for itself. But the moral law> says you must seek these things by patiently working reft for them, not by snatching in a moment that for5 W which others have toiled, enriching yourself throughiiil the merits of others, or by sacrificing their lives to ey your own happiness. But the criminal may point to M a law holier than morality; to every Christian creed iw which is on his side. Just as he gets his neighbour’smljewellery without toil, so is he to get paradise. Without )fn| money and without price is he to attain the bliss of eternity. By a great human sacrifice he is enabledj Oil to dispense with all toilsome conditions and enjoy jibj the celestial raiment and rubies that represent theheaven of every criminal’s dream—everything pretty ms and pleasant, and no work to obtain them. I The essential superstition represented by the crimiteiil nal’s ascension to the right hand of God, by divine aig grace, is as gross as anything among the Zulus. When Sfi neat wagonette and horses, violins, and money. �i8 'the chaplain, said, “Lord Jesus, receive his soul,” it either meant that the vulgarest and meanest murderer was a fit companion for Christ; or else it meant that ■a miracle was to be then and there wrought, and villainy at once transmuted to perfection. The ascen­ sion of the dead body through prison walls would be no greater miracle than the ascension of that evil mind to any realm of purity. It is a superstition to suppose that animal had any soul. Nevertheless, he might have had one had he been born in a world that had made the best instead ■of the worst of him. From first to last his “ career,” ■as he grandly called it, reflects the unreason which from the past has come to bind the present. A pre­ tended religion turns his earthly life to a transient trifle under the eternity to come ; and tells him that his good or evil deeds here are equally unimportant; •that heaven is had for the asking. Had religion told him the truth, that this life is the only one he is sure of, and that it is the only possible life he could have, unless he developed moral powers useful elsewhere, he might have ascended from animalism to manhood. When this solemn sanction of his indolence and worthlessness have borne their evil fruit, the law pro­ ceeds to make him a hero, the sensation of months. Biographies of him, reminiscences of him, myths and legends, accounts of his down-sitting and up-rising; �19 and all because he is slain like some formidable prisoner of war. “ I want you, sir,” he said to the clergyman, “to preach a special sermon over my case . . . to hold me and my career up as a beacon ”— such is his grand phraseology—“ that all who see may avoid my example.” But is that the effect of his emi­ nence ? Thousands of the wretched around us now see how their obscure lives may achieve fame. As the Saturday Review said, no statesman, author or artist could hope to receive such obsequious attention at death. Whereas it had been easy to put that man in a particoloured dress with a chain gang, paving roads for honest men, and make him a living witness to the criminal’s disgrace and degradation, as he now is of the criminal’s glory and ascension. He said, “ I hope God will give me strength to go like a hero to the scaffold. I had much rather die than live in penal servitude.” Why not, when death meant ascension to glory, and the other meant just that hard work it was the aim of his life to avoid. Years ago he at­ tempted suicide to escape a term of hard labour. I have no sentiment about the death of such people, except that I believe such death too good for them. My ob­ jection is not sentimental, but scientific. It is a terrible error for society to suppose that swift death is the severest punishment. The Bible represents Satan as believing that all that a man hath he will give for his �20 life; but that was written by a people who believed in no future life, and it was said about a man who had a great deal to lose. But our criminals come of classes to whom earth means poverty and misery, and heaven means luxurious idleness. It is a great error to believe that death is the chief deterrent to these. The main terror of it fled when theology allowed salvation to alL That was the practical abolition of hell. It has pro­ claimed to the scoundrel world that it may cheat men in this life, and then cheat the devil in the next. It has added to the criminal’s morbid satisfaction in creating a sensation, the assurance of ascension to heaven by a more painless death than Charles Peace had twice sought by his own act. Waterlew & Sons Limited, Printers, London Wall, London. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; 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> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The criminal's ascension : a discourse given March 2nd 1879 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway, Moncure Daniel [1832-1907.] Description An account of the resource Place of publication: [London] Collation: 20 p. ; 15 cm. Notes: Printed by Waterlow and Sons, London Wall. Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 2. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [Waterlow and Sons] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1879] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G3344 Subject The topic of the resource Crime Evil Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (The criminal's ascension : a discourse given March 2nd 1879), identified by </span><span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a></span><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Crime and Punishment Crime-Religious Aspects-Christianity Good and Evil Morris Tracts Salvation Social Problems https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/8b41254489f4316c3dd672bd9197ca6a.pdf?Expires=1784764800&Signature=B1ADo89r4YsFj6s-ak3hxItT0AKMh8GcfGPuLSaMH5VqAj27VNYewRT-v7f1nF0oOjwdk%7Eg8bHrIoQ4vv5PUBQZEcvqjORzTfSrvH88eKH2XV3FfsSPZL0WuXMWJIKLxeTI4YRfhZIxzzlbSQDBZKhc%7EPyT8Q6kLYXn11DWQvcGLcy6Cp7Hfg%7EQPhFjnhk3drDdQdliIMPm5wXBr8KvQKo78wcPc%7E3TOn7QMK1-eJR8MYu-D3M5GeVGoo30ZUStDFXdLM5tYwgz5skF1N0RP9fnrIpzPZi6MaU1cibQlrnCpy%7ENqbqi7U0bcdnTh4WAScW2rX54ct-nXQjN0IHGQFA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 529929f7b201297b770ee01fc33c6092 PDF Text Text NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY \V\cyYViíií> A- vIhaccoöVtU DISTRIBUTION REFORM. ��Distribution Reform. The Remedy for Industrial Depression, and for the removal of many Social Evils. BY THOMAS ILLINGWORTH. ‘1 They helped every one his neighbour; and every one said to his brother, ‘ Be of good courage.' So the carpenter encouraged the goldsmith, and he that smootheth with the hammer him that smiteth the anvil." CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited; LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE. �“ Charge them that are rich in this present world that they be not high-minded, nor have their hope set on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy ; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, that they be ready to distribute, willing to communicate, laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on the life which is life indeed.'” �CONTENTS. PAGE Preliminary Remarks xi * CHAPTER I. Introductory—The true Social Science—The Social Problem—Extremes of Wealth and Poverty—Mr. Samuel Morley, M.P., an Alarmist as to the Future of England—The great Want of the Day, some Mode of bridging over the Gulf between Rich and Poor—Lord Thurlow on rePeopling the empty Villages of England—Mr. Gladstone on the intoxi­ cating Increase of Wealth and the Extreme of Poverty—The late Professor Fawcett, M. P., on Pauperism—Pauperism in Manchester— Karl Marx, the German Socialist, points to Wealthy England for an Example of the Miserable Condition of the Labouring Classes, and bases his Statements on the Official Reports of Drs. Smith, Simon, and Hunter—Dr. Westcott on the Causes of Suicides—The Report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes a Revelation of a Condition of Things full of Disgrace and Danger to the Country—The Bishop of Manchester on the Decadence of Practical Christianity in England—A greater Knowledge of Physical Science and the Use of Machinery has vastly increased the Production of Wealth—We have retrograded in the Art and Economy of its Distri- CHAPTER II. The three Factors in the Creation of Wealth—Land, Labour, and Capital —Their relative Importance—The Economies made in Production of Wealth by Machinery should have been used for the Collective Good— But whilst Economies have been made in Production, Labour has gradually Declined in relative Power—Until to-day it is little better than the Slave of Capital—A far more important Question than the relative Importance of the Factors in Wealth Creation is the Equitable Distribution of the Wealth when created—The Desire to become Rich, and Mistrustfulness of ¿Divine Promises the Primary Causes of In­ justice—The Fall of the Nations of Antiquity traceable to Injustice and Inequity in the Distribution of the Rewards of Labour and Industry—A Retrospect ................................................... ... 14 �VI COttTFNTSt CHAPTER III. —, FAGS . 1 he Growth of Middlemanism contemporary with the Introduction of Labour-saving Machinery and Concentration of Population—The Economy in Production has been swallowed up by the Waste and Destruction in Distribution and Exchange—The Need of a Moral System of Distribution and Exchange—Examples in Proof thereof— Ralph Waldo Emerson on the false Relations between Men that come Trade, and the Want of a Higher Standard than Money as a Measure of Exchange—Money gotten in Exchange is not Wealth created ; it is simply Wealth collected, and too frequently it is destruc­ tive of Wealth—What are Riches, and what Powers of Virtue or Means to Happiness do they possess ?—The Sayings thereon of ancient Philosophers, Old Testament Writers, and Christ—Concentration and Monopoly of Riches defeats its own Ends—Riches, to be a Living Power, must be active—To be active they must be within the Use of Others ... ... ... ... ... .............. CHAPTER IV. Wealth ceases to be Wealth when it ceases to be used—The most direct Means of obtaining Wealth is in labouring Nature—With increasing Knowledge of the Arts of Industry and Peace, Man must obtain an increasing Quantity of natural Commodities for his Labour—The Labour of Man is, like the Fruitfulness of the Earth, the more it receives back of its own the more it reproduces—Examples of this Truth in India, Australia, &c.—The Industrial Revolution, and the Severance of Agricultural from Manufacturing Pursuits—The Founda­ tion of a Scheme of Imperial Federation rests on a moral, not a legislative, Bond—On kindred Interests and mutual Helpfulness ... 31 CHAPTER V. The Ties which bound together Primitive Communities—The Bond of Kin­ ship and Brotherhood—The Christian and Moral Bond which now binds Men together is the Bond of Humanity—The Analogy, and yet the Contrast, between Primitive and Modern Society—This is the Era of Free Competition and Individualism—The Reforms advocated for Remedying the Evils of the Modern Era are, however, all more or less founded on the Primitive Idea of the Family Group and Community of Interests—The true Doctrine of Free Trade—The selfish Indi­ vidualism that prompted the Support of Manufacturers to the Free Trade Movement ........................................................................................ 38 �CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. vii PAGE The Industrial Revolution and Unjust Land Laws have Contributed to the Sacrifice of the more Natural Agricultural Pursuits for the more Arti­ ficial Industrial Callings—The Malthusian Theory Proved to be Untrue —Free Trade has given us the Benefit of Natural Prices in Raw Materials, but the Result of the Free Trade Policy as Hitherto Applied has Brought About a Concentration and Monopoly of Capital — The Accumulation of Capital in a Few Hands is as Detrimental to the Well-being of a Country as Land Monopoly—Protection and the Consequent Dearness of Provisions was, before the Repeal of the Corn Laws Ascribed as the Cause of the then Existing Depression—Now Lowness of Prices and Cheapness are Ascribed as the Cause of the Present Depression : What an Anomaly !—Land Law Reform The Natural Law of Rents ... ............................................................. 46 CHAPTER VII. The Present System of Distribution Unsatisfactory and Unjust—The Pro­ ducer is depressed, the Consumer extorted : Consumption is therefore Limited, and the Demand for Labour Restricted—Competition rules Prices in Production and Wholesale Distribution, but in Retail Trading Custom and not Competition rules the Prices Consumers have to pay —This statement illustrated—Examples of Inequities and Injustices in Distribution in various Trades and Industries ... ... ... ... 54 CHAPTER VIII. On the Difficulties that will be seen in the Way of any Attempt at Reform by the hard-headed Practical Man—The Evils of Distribution are of Modern Growth—A Glance at the economic and social Condition of Village Life before the Industrial Revolution—In it there was no Waste in Distribution, no Middlemanism—Primitive Village Communities and “ Neutral Ground” for Markets for the Exchange of surplus Produc­ tions—The Need of making Distribution Neutral Ground to-day— The Co-operative Movement, and its Failure in carrying out the Principles of true Co-operation—The Essentials of true Co-operation explained ... ••• ••• ••• CHAPTER IX. The Remedy—The Establishment of Associations for Distribution of Agri­ cultural and Industrial Products for Mutual Benefit of Producers and Consumers—The Organization of Associations for Mutual Distribution �vili CONTENTS. of Agricultural Produce and Food-The Organization of Associations™“ for Mutual Distribution of Manufactures, Articles of Dress and Clothing, Furniture, &c.—The Machinery and Working of the same Explained ..................................................................................... 97 CHAPTER X. The Benefits of Mutual Association in Distribution—A -Possible Saving of ¿200,000,000 per Annum—Resulting in Increased Consumption and Greater Demand for Labour—Home Trade of Greater Importance than the Export Trade—The Fair Trade Cry and Depression in the Worsted Trade The True Cause of the Depression in the Worsted Trade—If Distribution were in the Hands of Producers and Consumers for their Mutual Benefit the Pleas for Fair Trade and Protection would Lose their Potency CHAPTER XI. Organization of Associations in Production—Industrial Partnerships and Profit Sharing—The True and False Association of Capital and Labour —The French Minister of the Interior on the Vital Power of Associa­ tion—The French Parliamentary Committee on Working Men’s Asso­ ciations-Illustrations of the Success of the Association of Labour and Capital in France The Familistère at Guise—The Maison Leclaire, Paris Their Nloral, Social, and Economic Advantages_ The Absence of such Associations in England—The Federal Combination of Associations for Distribution and Associations for Production a Complete System of Co-operation—Mr. Bright and Free Labour—Free Imports do not of themselves give Freedom to Labour—Free Trade and Military Expenditure—Greater Benefits to be Conferred on the People by a Reform in Distribution than have yet been Conferred by Partial Free Trade —A Free Breakfast-table — Direct and Indirect Taxation—The True Meaning of Capital—Summary of the Benefits to be Derived from a Reform in Distribution .......................... I25 CHAPTER XII. Democracy in Government, Oligarchy in Industry—The two Incompatible —The Most Active Advocates of Free Trade Policy the Most Diligent in Bringing about this Inconsistency—Mr. Samuel Morley, M.P., on Money Bags in Parliament and the Incapacity of their Owners to Take an Intellectual Part in the Work of the House—The Archbishop of York on the Need of Social Reforms—The Representatives of the �CONTENTS. Oligarchy in Industry in Parliament—Their Public Professions and Private Practices Compared with the Works of Godin and Leclaire— Private Enterprise and Individual Effort Compared with Collective Enterprise—It is by Collective Enterprise in Public Works that our Artificial Civilization is made Possible— The Waste and Costliness of Distribution by Private Enterprise Compared with Possible Saving and Economy of Associative Distribution—Past Class Legislation and De­ pression of the Labourers—Recent Legislation in the Repeal of Old Laws Favouring Employers, and the Enactment of New Laws Pro­ tecting the Community against the Encroachments of Private Enter- CHAPTER XIII. Individual Freedom to be Attained by Collective and Mutual Associations — The Moral and Social Condition a Hundred Years Ago—The Progress of Education—The Diminution of Crime—The more Artificial Civil­ ization becomes the Greater the Need of Education and a More Perfect Social Organization—Von Stein and the Emancipation of the Prussian Peasantry—The Real Wealth of Nations—Conclusion ... 172 �I �PRELIMINARY REMARKS. In the autumn of 1884 my attention was arrested by the announcement of “The Industrial Remuneration Conference Committee,” and the proposed holding of a conference for the discussion of the following question :— “ Is the present system or manner whereby the products of Industry are distributed as between various classes and persons of the community satisfactory ?—or, if not, are there any means by which that system could be improved ? ” The Committee was composed of the President and other representatives of the Statistical Society, members of the Political Economy Club, representatives of Trades Unions and the Co-operative movement, capitalists, and well-known friends of social and industrial reform—a sufficient evidence of the importance of the question and its many-sided aspects and influences. The question is one which for some time had engaged my thought and consideration, for in the everyday experiences of a commercial life I saw many inequalities and injustices in distribution. The greater the consideration I have given to the subject, the more I have become convinced that it is in the injustices existing in the distribution of the products of industry we find the greatest of all the causes of our social evils—evils so serious and so much fraught with disaster, all classes of society now admit they must be remedied. It was at one time my intention to prepare a paper for �xii PRELIMINARY REMARKS. reading and discussion at the Conference which was held in January, this year. I had some correspondence and an inter­ view with my friend Mr. Cunningham, of Trinity College, Cambridge, the hon. secretary to the Committee, but even­ tually I withdrew. I, however, wrote a pamphlet entitled “ Unregulated Competition and Distribution,” and also a shorter paper entitled, “ Distribution Reform; the remedy for Industrial Depression,” each of which had their origin in a humble desire to forward the discussion and consideration of the problem stated by the Conference Committee above re­ ferred to. The pamphlet and shorter paper were printed and dis­ tributed for private circulation only; by one means or another out of the small number circulated, copies found their way into the hands of eminent political economists, leading statesmen, and leaders of many movements for social reform, and practical business men. I was somewhat surprised at the almost unanimous expressions of approval that reached me, and have been much gratified with the friendly associations that have sprung up therefrom with men whom it is a pleasure and an intellectual profit to know. The present work is a larger and more elaborate treatment of the subject than was attempted in the pamphlet and paper referred to. It is to the kindly encouragement of Sir Thomas Farrer, Bart., Mr. Thorold Rogers, M.P., the Right Hon. G. J. Goschen, M.P., the Right Hon. W. E. Forster, M.P., the Marquis of Ripon, Mr. Thomas Hughes, Q.C., Mr. Lloyd Jones, and the General Secretary of the Central Co-operative Board, Mr. Vansittart Neale, and many others I might name, but more especially to Professor Bonarny Price, Professor of Political Economy in the University of Oxford, the present work has been written. �PRELIMINARY REMARKS. xiii Although I make mention of these names, I by no means wish to imply that any of them will act as sponsors for every­ thing contained in these pages; doubtless there will be some things that one or another will disagree with. I merely refer to them as an evidence that the subject and the treatment of it are worthy of serious consideration. In the estimation of Professor Bonamy Price “ This question is one which really rivals, in interest and importance, Free Trade.” Many sound economists and practical men of business share this opinion. I am quite sure that when the subject has been fully discussed and ventilated there will be a consensus of opinion that, without a reform in distribution, free trade, so called, will be only half a blessing. It is a noteworthy fact that the most ardent advocates of the free trade policy have also been the most devoted adherents of the doctrine of individual liberty and freedom; it is also noteworthy that, contemporary with the adoption and continued adherence to the policy of partially free imports, which we call Free Trade, labour has more and more been concentrated in large establishments, under the rule of an ever-growing and accumulating capital. Free trade was necessary for the collective good of the community, individual, and class interests, said its advocates, must not stand in the way of reforms in our fiscal policy, which would benefit the people collectively. In this they had a powerful argument. But benefits which have come of the free trade policy, and the concentration of labour under the factory system, have not been distributed for the collective good, so much as they have been monopolised for individual aggrandizement and wealth. The most serious charge that can be brought against the free trade policy is that it has brought about greater extremes of wealth and poverty than previously �xiv PRELIMINARY REMARKS. existed. Forty years ago the advocates of free trade pointed to protective customs duties as the cause of the dearness of commodities, and consequent bad trade and wretched condi­ tion of the people; to-day the lowness of prices, the cheapness of commodities, are pointed to as the cause of the present and long continued depression. The opposites of causes cannot bring about like results. So gross an anomaly as the one I refer to could not have existed if free trade had been ac­ companied by just and economic distribution. Another serious charge that must be made against the ardent advocates of Free Trade is, that they justify or seek to explain the extremes of wealth and poverty, on an erroneous conception of the function and teaching of political economy and the true meaning of individual liberty. True political economy knows no such brutal law as the fittest surviving, of buying in the cheapest and selling in the dearest market. Political economy cannot be separated from sociology; it is but the application of common sense in the making of laws and in the organization of industrial and social institutions, which will minister to the collective good of a community. Political economy teaches of the laws which govern the production and distribution of wealth; long practice and the use of common sense have made us proficient in producing wealth, but we are sadly remiss in the art of its distribution. Social science teaches of the laws and social organisms which conduce to the happiness of the greatest number. The science, if science it may be called, which deals with the produc­ tion and distribution of wealth, is therefore inseparable from the social science which treats of collective happiness and well being. Individual freedom is the most precious of all liberty, but individual freedom is most assured when collective liberty, prosperity and well being, prevail; individual freedom in the �PRELIMINARY REMARKS. "KN obtaining of wealth becomes tyranny when it refuses a like freedom to others, and when it is unjust in distributing the proceeds of industry to capital, intellect, and labour, in proportion to the relative amount each of these factors has contributed to wealth creation. Distribution Reform will be the corollary of the Free Trade Movement; the latter without the former will remain imperfect and incomplete. Distribution Reform must be of a two-fold nature, it must deal with the distribution of the products of industry in productive enterprise, and, therefore, with the relationship and association of capital and labour as well as with the distribution of goods, the necessaries of life, food and clothing. The work has been written in the leisure hours of a business life, a life which, under present day customs of speed and competition, is not calculated to leave much time nor inclination for philosophical or scientific study. A great want of the times is that the masters and students of economic and social science should have a more practical knowledge of every day business life and organizations, and that practical business men should know more of the laws which govern the creation and distribution of wealth, and true social science. The active contact of the two—the theoretical with the practical—would be of incalculable good. The subject is outside the domain of party politics, it is social rather than political; I have not attempted a scholarly or scientific treatment of it, but have written as a business man to business men, using every day phraseology and illustrations. In so doing I trust I have made what otherwise might be con­ sidered dry economic questions interesting to all. The subject is the Alpha and Omega of practical life, whether we look upon life from the mere worldly point of view of buying and selling �xvi PRELIMINARY REMARKS. and getting gain, or upon life as a great trust with high and noble aims and serious responsibilities and duties ; this subject of distribution sooner or later forces itself on our attention, the prosperity and happiness of a people is to be measured by the extent to which the community has conformed to the infallible truths of equity and justice of which it teaches. If what I have written should in any way be the means of arousing a more earnest interest and inquiry into the important subject of which I treat I shall be amply rewarded. THOMAS ILLINGWORTH. Ashburnham Grove, Bradford, September, 1885. �Distribution Reform. CHAPTER I. Introductory—The true Social Science—The Social Problem—Extremes of Wealth and Poverty—Mr. Samuel Morley, M.P., an Alarmist as to the Future of England—The great Want of the Day, some Mode of Bridging over the Gulf between Rich and Poor—Lord Thurlow on re-Peopling the empty Villages of England—Mr. Gladstone on the intoxicating Increase of Wealth and the Extreme of Poverty—The late Professor Fawcett, M. P., on Pauperism—Pauperism in Manchester—Karl Marx, the German Socialist, points to Wealthy England for an Example of the Miserable Condition of the Labouring Classes, and bases his Statements on the Official Reports of Drs. Smith, Simon, and Hunter—Dr. Westcott on the Causes of Suicides —The Report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes a Revelation of a Condition of Things full of Disgrace and Danger to the Country—-The Bishop of Manchester on the Decadence of Practical Christianity in England—A Greater Knowledge of Physical Science and the Use of Machinery has vastly increased the Production of Wealth—We have retrograded in the Art and Economy of its Distribution. To arrive at a correct estimation of the constitution of a patient, the physician seeks to know something of his family history, of what build and temperament his parents were, the number of his brothers and sisters, the nature of the diseases with which they may have been afflicted, the length of days of his grand­ parents, of his father and mother. The student of social and industrial problems, ere he can rightly understand them, and properly estimate their force, must learn something of history, primitive, mediaeval, and modem, “ for the roots of the present lie deep in the past, and nothing in the past is dead to the man who would learn how the present comes to be what it is.” More than this, he must be a bold man, indeed, who can ap­ proach the subject without a feeling of reverence, of awe and B �2 DtSTRlB^TtON' REFORM. wonder, and ot faith reverence for the Almighty power that laid the foundations of the earth, awe and wonder at God’s mighty works, and faith and confidence in God’s promises. In these latter days the discoveries in various sciences have been truly marvellous, but science has not yet discovered the origin of life, nor unravelled the mystery of what is this breath of life. Social history throughout all the ages is but the record of how man has fulfilled, or failed to fulfil, the Divine laws. In the Mosaic account of .the creation, we are told that “ God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him ; male and female created he them. And God blessed - them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth on the earth. And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed ; to you it shall be meat.” Scientific research, discovery and invention, sometimes called the triumph of mind over matter, are only the fulfilment of this Divine command to subdue the earth ; as the psalmist puts it, “ Thou madest him (man) to have dominion over the works of thy hands, thou hast put all things under his feet.” Aristotle, the pagan philosopher, says, “ It is evident then that we may conclude that plants are created for the sake of ani­ mals, and all other animals for the sake of man; the tame for our use and provision, the wild, at least the greater part, for our provision also, or for some other advantage—as in order to furnish us with clothes, and the like purposes. Since, there­ fore, nature makes nothing either imperfect or in vain, it neces­ sarily follows that she has made all these things for the sake ot man. p % The true social science is the right conception and under­ standing of the laws and just ways of making this dominion over God’s creation, over nature, minister to man’s true happi1 Politics, Book i., chap. viii. Bohn’s Library. �THE SOCIAL PROBLEM. 3 Hess. We cannot have dominion without laws; laws to be true and just, must be truth themselves, injustice cannot be made to square with truth, as this domination and subjugation of the earth is to be wrought out by man, it can alone be perfectly wrought out on lines of perfect truth, justice, and morality; therefore, the true social science to be perfect must be a science founded on morality and duty. It is a law of nature that man must work before he can eat, but it is also a law of nature that all animals immediately on their first birth have the power of providing themselves with food; man is no exception to this law, the moment the babe has a separate existence, that moment nature supplies its craving and its little strugglings for food. The bountifulness of nature yields to man’s labour, ten, twenty, thirty, sixty, ay, even a hundredfold, it is thus also a law of nature that whilst man must work, his work will bring him enough and to spare ; time for rest, and time for the cultivation of his higher nature, his mind and reason, the faculties which make him higher than the brute, and but a little lower than the angels. * The social and industrial problems now so pressing for a solution can only be solved by the natural and moral law. What are these problems ? Side by side with an accumulation of wealth, such as the world has never before witnessed, in this wealthy England we have the greatest misery and want. One in thirty-five of our population are paupers supported by the State; at least three in thirty-five scarcely know how to-morrow’s meal is to be provided. They are living hand to mouth, many debarred from their natural right, the right to work for their daily bread. A country’s real prosperity and happiness is not to be estimated by its accumulated wealth nor by the aggregation of its capital. No doubt the condition of the people of this country * Messrs. Carter have for three or four years been making experiments’in the direct fertilisation of wheat and other corn. They mention that one of their new hybrid wheats has produced no less than sixty developed ears from one grain. These average fifty grains per ear ; so that the one plant gives a total of 3,000 grains—i. e., three-thousandfold. B 2 �4 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. is no worse than it was before the repeal of the corn laws, doubtless it is better. The question is, have we made the best use of our opportunities, is the condition of the masses as good, are the means to happiness as great, is the burden as light, as our high privileges afford. It is poor consolation to one when ill, to be told that his suffering is not so great as those who have been like afflicted. Thirst is not quenched, hunger is not satisfied, nor is the downcast heart made glad, the thinly-clad form made warm, the cheerless home made bright, by such miserable comfort. If we were to set about a comparison, we should not choose the first half of this century as a fitting one wherewith to com­ pare the present with the past condition of the people, rather would we take the early feudal system of the middle ages, with its patriarchic interests, when the bond of common ties drew class closer to class, and competition, as now pursued, did not depress labour unduly, and leave it to starve when lack of employment came. In the middle ages, with all that seems dark, no man willing to work was without enough for his wants, and to spare. That there is something radically wrong in our social condition is an admission made on all sides, by the rich as well as the poor, the middle class man as well as the labouring operative. Mr. Samuel Morley, M.P., in a speech reported in the Daily News, March 13th, 1885, said he had arrived at impressions in connection with the Commission on the Housing of the Poor, that we had dangerous days before us, unless, as Christian people, we manifested more practical sympathy with those less favoured than ourselves. He did not believe that one person in fifty knew what was really meant by the expres­ sion “ over-crowding ” in the homes of the poor. If we could follow it out into its actual effects, there would be a stirring of conscience amongst us as to the comparatively little we were doing to remedy this state of things. There was a state of depression which entirely warranted Judge Talfourd’s recom­ mendation, namely, that the great want of the day was some �EVIDENCE OF SOCIAL EVILS. 5 mode of bridging over the gulf between the rich and poor. Those who had means of their own were bound to share them to a reasonable extent with those who had none. He had become an alarmist, and looked with dread at the future of England if there was not more constant effort. The report of the Royal Commission would bring out the details of circum­ stances that must urge those who had influence to do far more than formerly in trying to remedy the present state of things.” At the Industrial Remuneration Conference, held in January, 1885, Sir Thomas Brassey stated that a more equitable dis­ tribution of wealth must be made. Evidence that evils exist and must be removed is to be found in the numerous societies and associations being estab­ lished to ameliorate the condition of various classes of the community. We are having founded “ small farm and labourers' land associations,” industrial dwellings companies, needlework registry associations for improving the condition and increasing the remuneration of needlewomen, societies for promoting industrial villages, to relieve the congested districts of the metropolis and large towns, labour associations for giving to the labourer a greater share of the proceeds of his labour and industry, co-operative stores, now fully established, having stood the test of experiment, for giving to the consumer a share in the profits which previously went absolutely to the dealer, and for purveying unadulterated articles of food. In nearly all trades is there not an artizan or labourers’ protection society, and also the masters’ associations, marking the two armies ever at war over the spoils of man’s labour and the capitalist’s profit ? Listen to the remarks of Lord Thurlow, the chairman of the Small Farm and Labourers’ Land Association, in a speech reported in the Standard, July 1 st, 1885. “Why should they not endeavour,” said his lordship, “ to re-people the empty villages of England, to spread contentment through the land, and to see the villages of England occupied by the hardy peasantry and yeomen of one hundred years ago. There could be no more valuable institution for any country to possess �6 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. than a contented peasantry, and there could be no greater danger for the country to have, as had happened and was happening in England, a starving peasantry swept into the large towns, unable to find bread to support their wives and families. These were the conditions that were most suitable for forming a hotbed fit for the propagation of communistic and revolutionary doctrines.” These are very recent utterances. They only confirm the statements as to the sadness and wrongs of our social life made forty years ago. In a speech made in 1843 Mr. Gladstone said : “ It is one of the most melancholy characteristics of the social condition of this country that a decrease in the power of consumption among the people and an increase of privations and misery among the labouring classes should go hand-in-hand with a constant accumulation of wealth in the higher classes of society and with the constant growth of capital.” In a speech twenty years later, when presenting the budget in 1863, Mr. Gladstone said: “The fact is astonishing and scarcely credible of this intoxicating increase of wealth and power confined entirely to the possessing classes. But it must be of indirect advantage to the labouring population in cheapening the ordinary articles of consumption . . . That the extremes, however, of poverty have been modified I dare not say.” After speaking of the masses on the brink of pauperism, he concluded by saying, regarding the labouring classes generally, “ that human life in seven cases out of ten is a mere struggle for existence.” The late Professor Fawcett, M.P., wrote as follows in 1869: “The rapid increase of pauperism is a subject which at the present time has assumed an overwhelming importance. Parliament, the press, and the country urgently demand that steps should be taken to check its further development.” In 1869, in England and Wales, ^7,673,100 were expended in actual relief of the poor; in 1883 the amount had increased to >£8,353,292. I may be told that the number of paupers in receipt of relief is less now than it was in 1869, but here we �PAUPERISM IN MANCHESTER. 7 have the largely increased expenditure. The number of paupers actually receiving relief is no true indication of the amount of misery and wretchedness existing. Thousands on the verge of starvation would rather die than pauperise them­ selves. The vigilance of relieving officers also greatly reduces the numbers of “ official paupers.” Many of the poor, rather than go into the “ house,” drag on a weary existence, hoping against hope for better days. The number of hospitals increased from 346 in 1871, to 691 in 1881. In the great increase of such institutions we have, no doubt, a cause of the small decrease in the number of paupers. The poor will go into a hospital or charitable insti­ tution willingly, but into the workhouse only when the last resource is exhausted, and the last hope has been dispelled. Notwithstanding the fall in prices of recent years, viewing the condition of the masses as a whole, Professor Fawcett’s reasoning of fifteen years ago holds good to-day. “ The rich,” he then said, “ are becoming rapidly wealthier, whereas no increase can be discerned in the comforts of the labouring classes. The means of livelihood are getting dearer, and the working people become almost the slaves of those petty trades­ men whose debtors they are.” Mr. A. MacDougall, the chairman of the General Purposes Committee of the Manchester Board of Guardians, has recently read a paper on the causes of pauperism in Manchester, which is full of very interesting information. One point he brings out very clearly is that pauperism is hereditary to a greatly less extent than people generally suppose. He says : “ The total number of persons granted relief during the half-year ” (that is, the second half of 1884) “was 6,145, and the number sup­ posed to be hereditary paupers was 91, or 1'48 per cent, of the entire township. Of course it was not possible that the relieving officers would be able to select all the persons of this class who came before them ; but it would be leaving a sufficient margin to assume that not more than 2 per cent, of the pauperism of the township can be traced to hereditary �8 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. taint.” He goes on to observe that the deaths among children under sixteen years in the workhouse and in families in receipt of out-relief are not found to largely exceed the average death­ rate of children ; and he finally affirms, “ I find that there is most positive evidence that there is a continual progress towards self-support going on amongst a large proportion; many now in the ranks of artisans and tradesmen having lifted themselves from poverty-stricken and most unpromising con­ ditions.” On the subject of the proportion of paupers to population Mr. MacDougall has also collected much valuable information. During the past year there were altogether 13,676 persons in receipt of relief for longer or shorter periods ; in the same year the population of the township may be taken at 148,769 ; so that 9.78 is the per-centage of the pauper class. The former numbers, he adds, do not include vagrants relieved at the casual wards, except those who obtained orders from the relieving officers for admission to the workhouse. The total number of deaths in the workhouse, and also of persons in receipt of out-relief during the second half of last year, was 393, and the total number of deaths of persons of all classes in the township as registered during the half-year, and also at Crumpsall Workhouse, not registered in the township as it is situated outside the boundary, was 2,297. Thus, out of 2,297 deaths, 393 were those of paupers ; showing that one death in every 5 -84 was that of a pauper. Here we have the fact established that, while among the living the proportion of the pauper class to the population is one in every 978, amongst the dying it is one in every 5-84. This great difference in the proportions during life and at death points to the conclusion that a large number of the inhabitants have no resources for support and medical treatment during serious illness. Of the 359 deaths in the workhouse, as many as 137 persons died within one month after admission, or considerably more than a third; and 51 died in the second month after admission. Karl Marx, the German socialist, points to England, �MISERABLE CONDITION OF THE LABOURING CLASSES. 9 wealthy England, as an example of the miserable condition of the labouring classes, and contrasts their misery with the wealth of which this country boasts. He refers to the official reports presented to the Privy Council in 1862 and 1863 by Drs. Smith, Simon, and Hunter, and draws attention to the astounding facts published in those reports. The amount of nourishment, examined chemically and statistically arranged, as consumed by agricultural and industrial labourers appeared to be an absolute minimum, just sufficient to prevent “ starvation diseases.” Dr. Hunter, in his memorable report on the domi­ ciliary condition of the agricultural labourer, says : “ The means of existence of the hind are fixed at the very lowest possible scale. What he gets in wages and domicile is not at all commensurate with the profit produced by his work. His means of subsistence are always treated as a fixed quantity. As for any further reduction of his income, he may say, 1 Nihil habeo nihil euro.’ He is not afraid of the future; he has reached zero, a point from which dates the farmer’s calculation. Come what may, he takes no interest in either fortune or misfortune.” Both in quantity and quality, the report says, the feeding and housing are becoming worse progressively every year. * Dr. Westcott has made a special study of suicides in this country and on the continent; in a work recently published he makes clear the truth that whilst in England crime is steadily decreasing, suicide is steadily on the increase—of the 2,000 suicides in England in 1881, Dr. Westcott is of opinion that if a calculation could be made of the proximate causes, the most common cause would be found to be misery, despair of success in life. The report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes, since published, fully confirms the alarmist observations of Mr. Samuel Morley, which I have already * For a fuller treatment of this matter, see Dr. Schaffle’s work, “ Kapitalismus und Socialismus,” or the English work founded thereon, by the Rev. M. Kaufman, entitled "Socialism,” published by Henry S. King & Co. �IO DISTRIBUTION REFORM. quoted. A memorandum to the report made by Mr. Jesse Collings, M.P., signed and agreed by Cardinal Manning, the Bishop of Bedford, Lord Carrington, Mr. Samuel Morley, M.P., and Mr. Henry Broadhurst, M.P., contains the following paragraph :—“ The state of things revealed by the evidence is so startling, so full of disgrace and danger to the country, that it should not in any case continue. The majority of the class on whom the wealth and prosperity of the country and the safety of its institutions mainly depend are living under con­ ditions which must be regarded by all thoughtful readers of the evidence to be both shocking and intolerable.” A perusal of the report of the Royal Commissioners, to­ gether with the minutes of evidence, will be found most enter­ taining, to those who have a heart to feel for the lot of suffering humanity, or patriotism which lifts them to a love of country, and a care for its good name, the perusal will stir them to thought and action ; to those who live the lives of luxury and ease, whose knowledge of life is derived from the reading of three-volumé novels, who feed on the sensationalism these con­ tain, will here find many things more strange and sensational than any fiction. Be it remembered, startling and so full of disgrace as the evidence given before this Commission may be, trenchant and bold as the report and recommendations of the Commissioners may appear, the Commission is composed of gentlemen representing all shades of opinion, and various classes of society. Side by side sit the Heir Apparent to the Throne and the working-man Member of Parliament, Mr. Henry Broadhurst, the Marquis of Salisbury and Mr. Jesse Collings, Mr. Goschen and Sir Richard Cross, Cardinal Man­ ning and Sir Charles Dilke—the general report bears their signatures, together with those of the other Commissioners. The Bishop of Manchester, in a sermon preached in St. Margaret's Church, Westminster, June 28th, 1885, said, “Have any of you seriously considered how little of Christianity re­ mains in England. I am not speaking of it as fashioning individual lives, in which there is still much that is noble, self- �DECADENCE OF CHRISTIAN MOTIVE. II sacrificing, Christ-like, but as a pervading and governing social power, characterising and shaping the life and thought of the age. Read what comes forth daily from a teeming press ; read the contemporary literature you find on any drawing-room table, or in any club-house library; does this press, does this literature, proclaim the supremacy of Christian motive and Christian principle, or does it not rather indicate that both are merely respectable ancient traditions, which it is not convenient and perhaps not quite decent as yet openly to ridicule and put aside, but which no one dreams of regarding either as an incen­ tive or as a restraint. I am no prophet, or the son of a prophet, but methinks I see plainly enough ahead the perils that threaten society; I am not thinking of the fashionable portion of it to which many of you belong, but I am thinking of the whole social structure in which we live and move.” Not long ago in London I chanced to be passing a room where a meeting of working men was being held to discuss the cause of and remedy for the distress prevalent in the East End. The remedies were more fully treated than the causes. One speaker was a free trader, another a state socialist, another was for religion as the cure. One man, whose earnestness was most impressive, with tears rolling down his cheeks, described his efforts to do what he could to alleviate the suffering of the dock labourers, and the miserable condition of the people who mostly lived by doing sewing work and such like labour. The man was no idle vagabond, he was a well-to-do artizan. After dwell­ ing on the scenes of wretchedness with which he was familiar, he said he had no hope of a remedy except the remedy of force. The wrongs of the East End could only be put right by a forcible attack on the wealth of the West End. Such luxury and wantonness on the one side and the deplorable misery and wretchedness on the other were contrary to nature and to God. He, for one, was ready to take up arms to redress the grievance. Whilst one could but admire the man’s earnestness and sym­ pathy for those whose cause he was pleading, one could not but regret the extremes to which his feeling carried him. The �12 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. speaker was not alone in sharing the sentiments he gave utter­ ance to, others speedily endorsed them. What a condition things have come to, what a powerful confirmation there is in this incident to the alarm of Mr. Samuel Morley and others, which I have just quoted. Here, then, we have ample proof, if proof were needed, that our social fabric is unsound. The columns of the daily press, the literature of our magazines and reviews, are day by day, week by week, and month after month affording further illustration of the sad truth. You can read it on men’s faces as, with downcast eye and anxious expression, they go about their daily duties. You may hear of it at the street corners, in the workshop, the factory, the warehouse, and the exchange. There is a screw loose somewhere, is the unanimous opinion. In the following pages I shall strive to show not only where the screw is loose, but also endeavour to apply the remedy, and, in the progress of the inquiry, we shall find that whilst we possess unexampled means and aids to the creation of wealth, we have retrograded in the art and economy of its distribution. This century has seen time and distance reduced, if not annihilated, by the application of machinery and greater knowledge of physical science; distant parts of the earth unknown a hundred years ago now supply us with food and Nature’s products. Countries thousands of miles across the seas are nearer to us in the time it takes to go to or come from them than Edinburgh was to London eighty years ago. Commodities for man’s use and enjoyment are now brought to us at Nature’s prices, which are the prices they can be grown at to cover the trifling cost of the labour expended on their cultivation and the small cost of bringing them here. Goods are now being carried from Bombay to London at considerably less than they are carried from Manchester to London. With all these advantages, all this vast supply of nature’s bounties, we have the misery which we have dwelt upon. Strange it is that with all these riches we have thousands under-fed, under-clothed, wanting employment. �GUIDING PRINCIPLES OF A REMEDY. 13 Let me here disarm suspicion in our inquiry into this deplor­ able condition of society and the treatment of the remedy. State socialism, nor communism, spoliation, nor any injustice will be countenanced or advocated. The redressing of a wrong cannot be effectually performed by the setting up of another kind of grievance. The principles of perfect freedom, of justice, truth, and equity are the foundations upon which we shall proceed. On these alone can social peace and happiness be established. �CHAPTER II. The three Factors in the Creation of Wealth—Land, Labour, and Capital— Their relative Importance—The Economies made in Production of Wealth by Machinery should have been used for the Collective Good—But whilst Economies have been made in Production, Labour has gradually Declined in relative Power-Until to-day it is little better than the Slave of Capital— A far more important Question than the relative Importance of the Factors in Wealth Creation is the Equitable Distribution of the Wealth when created—The Desire to become Rich and Mistrustfulness of Divine Promises the primary Causes of Injustice—The Fall of the Nations of Antiquity traceable to Injustice and Inequity in the Distribution of the Rewards of Labour and Industry—A Retrospect. Political economists tell us that wealth cannot exist without the combination of three factors, viz., land, labour, and capital. As to their relative importance great difference of opinion exists, but a little reasoning, a little analysis will show that their relative force is definable. In the term land, as a factor in wealth production, must be included the whole creation—earth, air, sea, and the heavenly bodies also, for the land without sunshine and rain would be barren and unproductive. These, as we have seen, are Nature’s gifts, and under man’s dominion. Consider the timid, quiet and harmless sheep, or the cotton plant, the iron ore, and coal. They have contributed more to the making of England’s wealth than all the ingenuity and the labour of the owners of that wealth. Science cannot give the prescription, nor human ingenuity discover the way of making a sheep or a seed of cotton. Labour is the work of man. Without food man could not live; he works to live. The earth yields food in reward for his labour in varying degree. Sometimes, in most favoured places, the want is supplied by the mere effort of gathering, without the previous labour of tilling and sowing. In most cases, however, tools and implements, tilling, sowing, reaping, and storing must be used and resorted to. These tools and imple­ �PRIMITIVE LABOUR AND CAPITAL. 1$ ments, the seed which is sown, the barn in which the harvest is stored, are capital and stock, and, like all capital, they are the result of past saving, for the tools are the result of past labour, so, too, is the barn, also the seed. They are savings in a con­ crete form. The bone harpoon with which the Esquimaux kills the seal, the needles made from the teeth of animals by which the Greenlander sews together the skins with which he is clad, the wooden plough of the African are capital, resulting from saving of past labour. It is therefore evident that in primitive society land and labour, or Nature and man’s toil, were the primary factors, capital but a secondary factor in wealth-creation. In the middle ages, even down to the beginning of the industrial revolution, capital was a secondary factor in producing wealth, much material comfort was enjoyed, man laboured nature, and obtained all his necessaries of food and clothing without being wholly dependent on capital. If the farmer wanted a spade or a plough, the village blacksmith wrought the iron by manual labour, and the village carpenter shaped the woodwork. Neither of them depended on capital for their employment. Conjointly they made each other’s tools. The main “ investment ” they had in their business was their strength of arm, and the prac­ tical, or, in present day phraseology, the technical knowledge they possessed of their handicraft. Did the farmer want a set of harness for his horse, he called in the village saddler. The harness was made on the spot, the only capital the saddler wanted was sufficient savings to go to the village currier and pay for the leather, or to the village smith for the metal parts. If the farmer’s wife wanted a dress, or yarn for hosiery, she span the home-grown wool on the spinning-wheel, which was made by the village carpenter, and the loom to which the weaver took the warp and weft to weave into cloth was made by the co-operative and manual labour of the weaver, the carpenter, and th® blacksmith ; the capital required to create that wealth was infinitesimal, and withal the people lived con­ tented lives, were happy and prosperous. �DISTRIBUTION REFORM. It is only since the days of the steam-engine and mechani­ cal production, and the increased and ever increasing divisions of labour concentrated in vast productive establishments, that capital has obtained an approach to an equality of power with nature and labour in the production of wealth. That the steam-engine, and the inventions of machinery, and various labour-serving appliances, have made a great economy in the cost of production no one will deny; that capital is an essential to this new method of production, is also a proposition that will readily be assented to. If labour-saving appliances make a great economy, and produce a greater amount of wealth, the saving and increased production accruing should be made to minister to the collective good. But whilst these great economies have been applied, we have seen labour, which is yet an essential to mechanical production, gradually declining in its relative power and independence; and capital, which is the production of nature, labour and machinery, step by step increasing in power, until to-day labour is little better than the slave of capital. As recently as twenty-five to thirty years ago, the manufac ture of heavy woollen cloth was done by hand-loom weaving. A man working from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m. five days, and from 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. on Saturdays, would weave, on an average, 3 strings a day ; a string is 3 yards and 12 inches, that would equal 18 strings a week, or 60 yards of cloth ; the average earnings were fifteen shillings per week. To-day the weaving is done in the factory, not by a man throwing the shuttle with his hands, and treading the shafts with his feet, but by girls and women stand­ ing by and watching the power-loom. They work 56 hours a week, as against the hand-loom weaver’s net working hours, after deducting “ meal times,” of about 80 hours. The pre­ sent average wages for these girls and women are twelve shillings a week ; they produce about 27 strings of cloth, or about 90 yards, per week. The production is 50 per cent, more, and the wages 20 per cent, less than by the hand-loom. This in itself is no doubt a wonderful economy, �CARLYLE ON SOCIAL FEUDS. 17 in lighter fabrics the economy is very much greater; a saving to a like extent funs through all the processes. In the carding and spinning the economy is fully as great—who has got the benefit ? The weaver certainly is no better; what about the consumer? Here is an interesting item taken from an old newspaper for 1835 :—* .............. ... ............... ... .......................... £, s. 1 12 9 d. o o 17 o 2 18 Paid for fine Dress-Coat ,, ,, Waistcoat ,, ,, Trousers o A fine dress-coat in those days was made of the best of cloth; it is only since the days of machinery, spurious fabrics have been produced. For a suit of clothes of fine quality you would to-day have to pay not less than ^4 10s. Where then has the economy gone ?—it has been swallowed up and wasted in an expensive, costly, and wasteful system of distribution ; but of this, and the question of competition, we shall treat more fully hereafter. A far more important question than the relative importance of each of the three factors—nature, labour, and capital—in the production of wealth, is the relative and equitable distribution of the wealth when created. It is this question of the division of the proceeds of industry which makes the wide gulf between capitalist and labourer; it is the cause of socialism and com­ munism. Until it is dealt with and adjusted our social and industrial institutions cannot stand the test of Christianity or morality; nor can our dealings and relationships, one with another, be mutual and helpful. Considering the tension there is in these relationships, who can deny the truth of Carlyle’s taunt when he says, “ Our life is not a mutual helpfulness, but rather, cloaked under laws of war, named fair competition, and so forth, it is a mutual hostility.” Whence comes all this hostility, this struggling, man against man?—primarily from a desire to become rich, secondarily * From Mr. Hutchinson’s article in “ Nineteenth Century,’’ Oct., 1884. C �l8 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. from a mistrustfulness of nature, and a want of faith in the Divine promises. Man arrogates to himself godlike powers, he is not satisfied to partake of the bounteousness of nature in a spirit of thankfulness and praise, but he must strive to be a , lord and master of creation, not a recipient of its goodness ; he must strive to monopolise and make his own what he simply holds in trust, and at best can only partake of to the smallest extent, and ere long must leave what his perverted mind had made the idol he had worshipped, and on whose altar he had sacrificed his earthly happiness. And from this desire to become rich, to monopolise wealth, to become affluent, luxuri­ ous, and opulent—at one time it may be the tribal chiefs, another the king or emperor, or at another time the owners of the land, or the employers of labour, or those who grow rich by exchange or usury—one individual or a class, at the sacri­ fice of their brothers’ toil and servitude, steps to power and temporary dominion over man. The way to such a power is the way of cruelty and injustice, it has been the cause of the oppression and misery, the wars and slaughtering, the darkest pages of history reveal to us. It is a crime of the deepest dye for man to take away the life of his fellow. The spread of Christian teaching and the growth of morality and humanitarianism have made us consider it a crime for man to hold property in the life and servitude of his brother man. The day is not far distant when we shall consider it a most heinous crime for a class or individual to deny or debar, by any restrictive means whatsoever, their fellow­ man the full reward of his industry and freedom to labour. If life is sacred, surely the natural right to sustain it can only be one degree less sacred. The fall of the nations and empires of antiquity is traceable to the injustice and inequity of the distribution of the rewards of labour and industry. It was so with Babylon, Greece, and Rome. With an excess of wealth and luxury in the hands of a few, there was in Rome forced and non-requited servitude of the many. No incentive to reproductive employment �HISTORY AND INEQUITABLE DISTRIBUTION. 19 existed. The patrician lived in affluence on the enforced labour of his slaves ; the free-born citizen, having no possibility of competing with the products of slave labour, and driven from the soil by the privileged few, was pacified by free grants of com and often of money, and his passions pandered to by the gladiatorial shows ; the slaves were held in subjection by the sword and the most unjust of laws ; infanticide, abortion, and forced celibacy, and every check to the growth of popula­ tion was resorted to; corruption reigned everywhere, until at last the social fabric collapsed. The French Revolution was brought about because on the unprivileged classes fell the whole of the burdens of local and imperial taxation, and on the nobility all the gains of oppressive privileges which bore heavily on the industry of the country. The beginning of the strife between capital and labour in England and the first social revolt was the rising of the peasants in 1377 1381, a rising to resist the enforcement of the Statute of Labourers. The black death had carried off probably a third of the population ; the “ labour market ” was disturbed; a scarcity of hands brought about a rise in wages. The scarcity of labour was such the landowners were glad to grant an abandonment of half their rents to refrain the farmers from the abandonment of their farms. For the time cultivation became impossible. “ The sheep and cattle strayed through the fields and corn,” says a contemporary, “ and there were none left who could drive them.” Even when the first burst of panic was over, the sudden rise of wages consequent on the enormous diminution in the supply of free labour, though unaccompanied by a corresponding rise in the price of food, rudely disturbed the course of industrial employments. Harvests rotted on the ground and fields were left untilled, not merely from scarcity of hands, but from the strife, which now for the first time revealed itself, between capital and labour. * The Statute of Labourers enacted that every able-bodied man or woman under three score years of age having no land *See Greens “A Short History of the English People,” pp. 241-242. �20 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. of his own to till, nor serving any other, must serve the employer who required him to do so, and at the wages which were accustomed to be taken in the neighbourhood where he is bound to serve, two years before the plague began, upon pain of punishment by imprisonment on refusal to obey. By this statute not only was the price of labour fixed at the price before the plague, and the rise in prices of commodities con­ sequent thereon, but the labourer was once again tied to the soil. He was forbidden to quit the parish where he lived in search of better-paid employment; if he disobeyed he became a fugitive, and was liable to imprisonment at the hands of the justices of the peace. To enforce such a law literally, must have been impossible, for corn had risen to so high a price that a day’s labour at the old wages would not have purchased wheat enough for a man’s support. The landowners, however, did not flinch from the attempt. Fines and forfeitures which were levied for infractions formed a large source of royal revenue; but so ineffectual were the original penalties, the runaway labourer was at last ordered to be branded with a hot iron on the forehead, while the harbouring of serfs in towns was rigorously put down. The villains and serfs who had previous to the plague held themselves free were, by the ingenuity of the lawyers in cancelling on grounds of informality, manumissions and exemptions which had previously passed without question, brought back to bondage. A fierce spirit of resistance was maintained. The cry of the poor found a terrible utterance in the words of the “mad priest of Kent,” John Ball. It was in the preaching of John Ball that England first listened to the knell of feudalism and the declaration of the rights of man. “ Good people,” cried the preacher, “ things will never go well in England so long as goods be not in common, and so long as there be villains and gentlemen. By what right are they whom we call lords greater folk than we ? On what grounds have they deserved it? Why do they hold us in serfage ? If we all came of the same father and mother, of Adam and Eve, how can’’they say or prove that they are better �PAST OPPRESSION OF LABOURERS. 21 than we, if it be not that they make us gain for them by our toil what they spend in their pride ? They are clothed in velvet and warm in their furs and ermines, while we are covered with rags. They have wines and spices and fair bread, and we oatcake and straw and water to drink. They have leisure and fine houses, and we have pain and labour, the rain and the wind in the fields. And yet it is of us and our toil that these men hold their state.” It was the tyranny of property that then, as ever, roused the defiance of socialism. A spirit fatal to the whole spirit of the middle ages breathed in the popular rhyme, which con­ densed the levelling doctrine of John Ball, “When Adam delved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman.”* Following the Statute of Labourers, we have the Statute of Edward VI., under which a combination of workmen con­ cerning the work or wages is to be followed by a penalty on conviction, of ten pounds or twenty days’ imprisonment on bread and water for the first offence, a fine of twenty pounds or the pillory for the second, and a fine of forty pounds, the pillory, the loss of one of his ears, and judicial infamy for the third. This Statute was confirmed by 22-23 Charles II., and was in force till the general repeal of all such prohibitions on combinations of workmen, which took effect under 6 George IV., cap. 129. In his most valuable work, “ Six Centuries of Work and Wages,” Mr. Thorold Rogers, M.P., reviewing the condition of the labourer from 1563 to 1824, says, “ I have protested before against that complacent optimism which concludes because the health of the upper classes has been greatly improved, because that of the working classes has been bettered, and appliances unknown before have become familiar and cheap, that, there­ fore, the country in which these improvements have been effected must be considered to have made for all its people regular and continuous progress. I contend that from 1563 to 1824 a conspiracy, concocted by law and carried out by parties * Green’s Short History, p. 243. �22 distribution reform. interested in its success, was entered into to cheat the English workman of his wages, to tie him to the soil, to deprive him of hope, and to degrade him into irremediable poverty. For more than two centuries and a half the English law and those who administered the law were engaged in grinding the English workman down to the lowest pittance, in stamping out every expression or act which indicated any organised discontent, and in multiplying penalties upon him when he thought of his natural rights.” Since the repeal of the conspiracy and combination laws, and the repeal of the old poor law, the English workman has been free to sell his labour for the best price the circum­ stances of his lot would allow. But contemporaneously with his freedom, in so far as legislative enactments are concerned, he has been encircled with new difficulties. The industrial revolution has, as we have already observed, made him more dependent on capital for employment. Along with the concen­ tration of labour under the factory system, and its minute division of labour and undoubted increase and cheapness of production, there has grown up a complicated, uneconomic, and destructive system of distribution, a system neither established by law nor founded on common sense nor justice, but the clumsy growth of inexplicable custom, but, neverthe­ less, a system under which the producer is robbed of his fair share of the proceeds of his industry, and the consumer is extorted. �CHAPTER III. The Growth of Middlemanism contemporary with the Introduction of Laboursaving Machinery and Concentration of Population—-The Economy in Production has been swallowed up by the Waste and Destruction in Dis­ tribution and Exchange—The Need of a Moral System of Distribution and Exchange—Examples in Proof thereof—Ralph Waldo Emerson on the False Relations between Men that come of Trade, and the Want of a Higher Standard than Money as a Measure of Exchange—Money gotten in Exchange is not Wealth created ; it is simply Wealth collected, and too frequently it is destructive of Wealth—What are Riches, and what Powers of Virtue or Means to Happiness do they possess?—The Sayings thereon of Ancient Philosophers, Old Testament Writers, and Christ— Concentration and Monopoly of Riches defeats its own Ends—Riches, to be a Living Power, must be active—To be active they must be within the Use of Others. This century has witnessed the introduction and use of laboursaving machinery such as are the wonder of the age, but it has also witnessed the growth of “ Middlemanism,” which is an un­ necessary multiplication of the processes of distribution and exchange—the economy of the former has been swallowed up by the waste and destruction of the latter, under the unrelenting law of competition, which, in its application to the circumstances of which I am now speaking, is of a truth prostituted to a wrong end; the producer, the workman, is now, as of old, filched of his rights. Abundant proof of this we shall hereafter adduce. The remedy, as we shall also show, lies not either in legisla­ tive enactment, nor in any way within the province of the poli­ tician, but is to be found in a moral system of exchange and distribution. The yard stick, the pound weight, and the pound sterling, invaluable in their way as measures of quantity, and mediums and standards of exchange, do not fulfil the demands of the moral law. If I were to sell a pint of milk for two-pence, and I gave full measure, it does not follow I have satisfied moral �24 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. law. I might have put in some water; although I gave full measure, it does not follow the purchaser has benefited in a moral exchange by giving me the two-pence. Suppose I were, say a dealer in shoes, buying wholesale and selling retail, and went to a boot and shoe maker and he offered me half-a-dozen pairs of boots and shoes at say fifteen shillings the pair, if I, well knowing he lived solely by the produce of his labour, and that it was expedient he should exchange his boots and shoes for cash, which cash he would, immediately he got it, take to the provision dealer, or the tailor, or the currier, to exchange for the necessaries of life, and the material for future employment, knowing this, if I were to say no, you are anxious to sell, I am in no hurry to buy, as you must sell I shall give you only twelve shillings and sixpence the pair. On buying them at this reduced price, I go home to my store, congratulating myself on a good bargain; ere the week is out I sell them at the current retail value, taking no account of the reduction made by the shoemaker. I distribute one pair to a farmer at twenty shillings, another to a factory worker, another to a school­ master, and so on until the six pairs are all sold, at an extra profit of two shillings and sixpence per pair beyond the usual retail rate of profit, and on the six pairs I thus make a gross profit of forty-five shillings. By such a transaction how much have I benefited society?—how much have I increased the world’s wealth ?—what moral obligation have I discharged to my fellows ?—none at all, I have simply made myself a parasite on society, I have depressed the producer, and made him so much less a reproductive consumer to the amount of fifteen shillings, the reduction he made on the six pairs of shoes. I have collected into my hands, or my pocket, forty-five shil­ lings from the six parties to whom I sold the shoes, and cur­ tailed their consumption to a like extent. As, probably, I shall spend in employment, by purchasing commodities for my own consumption, but a mere fractional part of the fortyfive shillings profit I had made, I shall add the balance to capital, and by a multiplicity of such transactions, making it my �ON BUYING CHEAP AND SELLING DEAR. 25 daily business, I shall probably ere long be moderately wealthy ; but where would the wealth have come from ?—why evidently out of the depression of the labourer on the one hand, and the needlessly high prices I obtained from the wearer or consumer on the other. Although I possessed the wealth, I should not have increased the world’s goods one atom ; on the contrary, I should have limited consumption and reduced production. Or again, suppose I were a merchant, or dealer, and a manufacturer were to come to me and say I have accumulated a stock, and have not sufficient capital, nor credit, to enable me to hold it until a favourable opportunity presents itself for selling, the season has not yet begun for the retail dealer want­ ing the goods, will you buy ?—if, after this plain intimation of the man’s position, I were to say, yes, I will look at your samples, and compare their values, and, after comparing them, I were to offer 20 to 30 per cent, less than I well knew I could buy similar value elsewhere; under the strain of the circum­ stances the offer, despite the great loss, is accepted, the manufacturer is brought a step nearer to ruin, ere long he fails, his creditors are disheartened by their losses, which are made greater by the 20 to 30 per cent, reduction below the market price I had obtained on the transactions passing between us. I may have made a large gain, and done a smart piece of busi­ ness, and whitewashed my conscience on the altar of competi­ tion, and a stupid conception of the law of supply and de­ mand, but what moral obligation should I have fulfilled to my fellows?—how much should I have added to the world’s wealth by such a transaction? Not one atom, all I should have done would have been to make it easy for me to make money by a further exchange of the goods, and minimise the possibility of others making their usual gain in competing with me. I should have collected or gathered into my hands the wealth which others had lost, the world would be no richer, the means to happiness no greater ; on the contrary, they would be decreased. Such transactions are of daily occurrence. Their lin- �26 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. morality and evil consequences are of no less magnitude when done on a large scale by large mercantile firms and by men of position in the commercial and religious worlds. Ralph Waldo Emerson evidently saw and felt the need of a moral, in addition to a pecuniary or monetary measure of exchange, when, in his lecture on the New England Reformers, he said, “ This whole business of trade gives me to pause and think, as it constitutes false relations between men, inasmuch as I am prone to count myself relieved of any responsibility to behave well and nobly to that person whom I pay with money; whereas if I had not that commodity I should be put on my good behaviour in all companies, and man would be a bene­ factor to man, as being himself his only certificate that he had a right to those aids and services which each asked of the other.” * Money gotten in exchange beyond the payment for services rendered, which services to be legitimate, must be an actual aid to production, and therefore an integral part of production itself, is not wealth created; it is purely and simply wealth collected, and more frequently than otherwise is destructive of wealth and a limitation of happiness to the many. And what are these riches, after which there is so much struggling and strife? What powers of virtue or means to happiness do they possess? Hear what Plato says: “For nothing born of earth is more honourable than what is in Olympus [the supposed abode of the gods], and he who thinks otherwise of the soul is ignorant that he is careless of this wonderful possession. Nor when a person who desires to possess wealth not honourably, or when possessing does not bear it ill, does he then honour his soul with gifts? He fails of it entirely, for he sells what is honourable and at the same time beautiful in his soul for a little gold, for all the gold on earth and under the earth is of no value against virtue.” And again : “ It is impossible for persons to be very rich and good, such at least as the many reckon rich. For they reckon rich * “Essays, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. London: Macmillan & Co., p. 515. �RICHES AND VIRTUE. those who amongst a few persons have possessions valued at the greatest quantity of coin, which even a bad man may possess. Now, if such be the case, I will never agree with them that the rich man, if not a good one, can be truly happy, but that it is impossible for the person pre-eminently good to be pre-eminently rich.”* Lord Bacon, the great ng is moralist and philosopher of the seventeenth century, says : “ I cannot call riches better than the baggage of virtue. The Roman word is better, ‘ impedimenta,’ for as the baggage is to an army, so is riches to virtue : it cannot be spared or left behind, but it hindereth the march, yea and the care of it sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory. Of great riches there is no real use, except it be in the distribution : the rest is but conceit.” And what of the teaching of the ancient Biblical writers. Like the teaching of Christ, they warn us against the love of riches. In the book of Ecclesiastes there is a teaching of moral philosophy that is as true of life to-day as when it was written. In the writings of the Old Testament and the teach­ ings of Christ we have a social philosophy applicable to all time, and the political economy that is founded on this moral and social philosophy, not only founded but practised, must lead us to know what the true ends of life are, and how man’s happiness and destiny are to be sought out and fulfilled. Ponder the philosophy of the writer of the book of Ec­ clesiastes, “Moreover, the profit of the earth is for all, the king himself is served by the field. He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver, nor he that loveth abundance with increase; this is also vanity. When goods increase, they are increased that eat them, and what good is there to the owners thereof, saving the beholding of them with their eyes. The sleep of a labouring man is sweet whether he eat little or much, but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep. There is a sore evil which I have seen under the sun, namely, riches kept for the owners thereof to their hurt. But those * Plato, “The Laws,” translated by Burges, b. V., c. i. �28 distribution reform. riches perish by evil travail, and he begetteth a son, and there is nothing in his hand. As he came forth of his mother’s womb, naked shall he return to go as he came, and shall take nothing of his labour which he may carry away in his hand And this also is a sore evil, that in all points as he came, so shall he go; and what profit hath he that hath laboured for the wmd.’’ How. many of us believe or, believing, take heed of Christ s warning as to covetousness, when, as an introduction to the parable of the rich man who set up greater barns, e sai , Take heed, and keep yourself from all covetousness, for a man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possessed.” And then applying the parable, he said unto his disciples, “Therefore I say unto you take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, neither for the body what ye shall put on. The life is more than meat, and the body is more than raiment. Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, which neither have storehouse nor barn, and God feedeth them. How much more are ye better than fowls, and which of you with taking thought can add to his stature one cubit ? If ye, then, be not able to do that thing which is least, why take ye thought for the rest ? Consider the lilies, how they grow. They toil not, they spin not, and yet, I say unto you, Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith. And seek not ye what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind. For all these things do the nations of the world seek after, and your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.” Timothy warns us that “ they that will be rich fall into tempta­ tion and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil, which while some coveted after they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” We are often told that in the hands of the English-speaking 9 �THE WORSHIP OF THE GOD MAMMON. 29 people the lamp of Christian truth, liberty, and civilization is now kept burning, its light ere long must spread over the whole earth. We claim to be a Christian people. So jealous are we of any taint of insincerity, the majority of members in the House of Commons will not allow a duly elected member of free-thinking and atheistic profession to join them in legislation. Notwithstanding all these professions, who that lives a life of business activity or of social enjoyment, of phi­ lanthropic labour or of priestly profession can say the practice is an approach to the profession. The real god we worship is the god Mammon, the chief priest of this god is competitionIt is to him we go for absolution for all our sins. An attribute of this competition is a mythical belief in the law of the fittest surviving. The religion of human nature and the in­ stinct implanted in the human mind and heart, and the religion of Christ, teach us that man is the brother of man. We are bidden to love one another. There can be no love, no brotherly kindness, no humanity, in the brutal law of force and of the fittest surviving. We pray “ Give us this day our daily bread,” and our ever constant struggle the moment we enter business, under the justification of the law of competition, is to make it difficult, if not impossible, for our fellow man to earn his daily bread. No wonder the Bishop of Manchester and Mr. Samuel Morley, and many similar minded men, should be fearful of the wrecking of our whole social structure. The consensus of thought and expression, as regards the too abundant possession of riches, being a hindrance to, rather than an enjoyment of, the greatest happiness, would be remarkable if our own eyes did not witness its truth. What was spoken on this matter by numerous ancient Jewish writers, Pagan philosophers, by Christ and his disciples, by Lord Bacon, and other English writers, is reproduced by modern writers, and is confirmed in our daily lives. Concentration and monopoly of riches defeats its own ends, it is only in activity and reproductive employment that riches �30 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. are a living power; to be reproductive they must be within the use of others, if not reproductive and active they will, in any form whatsoever, wither away and decay. “The profit of the earth is for all; when goods increase, they increase that eat them.” Robinson Crusoe, the monarch of all he surveyed, was passing rich, for the whole island was in his dominion ; yet he was very poor, for there was no one with whom he could ex­ change the produce. When by chance Friday was found, the only pleasure he had, beyond satisfying his wants, was to see Friday eat of his riches. The richest man is he who has sufficient for his wants, enough of labour to make rest sweet, and enough of leisure to enjoy his earthly inheritance. The most pitiable of men is he who has a superabundance of wealth, the littleness of soul that the love and worship of it too often begets, and the constant fear and anxiety in tending and guarding it. �CHAPTER IV. Wealth ceases to be Wealth when it ceases to be used—The most direct Means of obtaining Wealth is in labouring Nature—With Increasing Knowledge of the Arts of Industry and Peace Man must obtain an Increasing Quantity of Natural Commodities for his Labour—The Labour of Man is like the Fruitfulness of the Earth, the more it receives back of its own the more it reproduces—Examples of this Truth in India, Australia, &c.—The Indus­ trial Revolution, and the Severance of Agricultural from Manufacturing Pursuits—The Foundation of a Scheme of Imperial Federation rests on a moral, not a legislative, Bond—On Kindred Interests and Mutual Helpful­ ness. By natural law, wealth must either increase or decay, it ceases to be wealth when it ceases to be used. If one has a house and does not occupy it himself, nor cannot get another to live in it at a rental, the house is useless, and is not wealth. If a man owns a warehouse stored with goods, and cannot find a sale for the goods, his goods and warehouse are not wealth, they are worse than nothing. If I claim ’ the ownership of a tract of country, and cannot induce any one to rent it from me, nor on my own account be able to procure labourers to work it, that tract of land is useless, there is no wealth in it. Wealth can only be made reproductive, and prevented from decay, when it is directly, or indirectly, applied to the labouring of nature, and the reproductive consumption of the necessities of life; and as the productiveness of the earth increases, man’s labour, vastly beyond man’s power of consumption, with increasing knowledge of the arts of industry and peace, a higher civiliza­ tion, and a nearer approach to the Christian life of justice and equity, man must of necessity obtain an increasing quantity of natural commodities in exchange for his labour. We hear great outcries of the disastrous fall in prices, from some quarters we are told this is because of the appreciation in the value of gold, and the depreciation of silver. The �32 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. simple truth is that the fall in prices is the natural law enforc­ ing itself; it is too strong and too powerful for the monopoly of man. The fall in prices is the gift of nature, in reward for man’s labour. With morality in exchange, and economy in distribution, a fall in prices would be a boon to all men, not even excepting the capitalist, who now regrets it, and fears the consequences. In our desire to increase wealth, we have increased man’s capacity for reproductive labour a hundredfold; nature, as she ever will do, has rewarded the labourer seven times seven. In this enterprise for wealth we have discovered vast continents, by the aid of machinery and labour we have replenished the virgin soil, and obtained ever increasing supplies, until we now begin to cry enough, enough. The constantly increasing supplies aie reducing prices, there is over production—let us protect the value of our wealth by limiting production. With all this increasing supply, what about consumption : we pay the agricultural labourer ten to twelve shillings a week, we sell him back the products of his labour at ioo per cent, profit, and wonder that consumption does not keep pace with production. The Lancashire spinning and weaving operatives produce a fabric at five-pence per yard, it passes through the hands of two or three exchangers, or distributors, for the privi­ lege of buying back for their own consumption, the fabric they had conjointly made at the cost of five-pence per yard ; they have to pay the last distributor, the retailer, ten-pence half­ penny per yard. The wages of cotton piecers average the mighty sum of six shillings per week, and weavers about fourteen shillings per week for full work. The spinners and weavers in the worsted trade manufacture a dress fabric which costs the manufacturer, after the payment of their labour and of all other expenses, is. 6d. per yard; the weekly wages of spinners working fifty-six hours per week, average 9s. to ns ; and weavers “minding” two looms, 14s. 6d. The fabric they have produced at a cost of is. 6d. per yard, after passing through two or three hands, is retailed to them at 3s. per �CAUSE OF SO-CALLED OVER-PRODUCTION. 33 yard, just ioo per cent, profit. More than half our population are employed in agriculture and industry, or maintained on the wages earned therein; their productiveness is vast, their wages of the scantiest nature, ever being checked by competition. In supplying their consumptive wants they get no benefit from competition; but by a complicated and insane system of middlemanism they are gammoned and befooled; what they have produced under the severest of competition is re-sold back to them at ioo per cent, profit. They who have contributed most to making the wealth are extorted; the exchangers of their labour and distributors of the wealth become rich out of the profits made in exchange. The production is great, but the consumption of the producers is small. After complaining of the vast production and scanty con­ sumption at home, we look abroad for new markets. We take an eastern country, say Egypt; we reason amongst ourselves that Egypt has rich natural resources ; corn, cotton, and other products grow there profusely in the fertile valley of the Nile. We will get an exchange in sending our manufactured goods for their cotton and corn; but we overlook the fact that the purchasing power • of a community is in proportion to the distribution of its wealth, and not in proportion to its accumu­ lation. The lot of the producer in Egypt is worse than the purchasing power of the operative at home, and that is bad enough. Forced labour prevails • yet in that country, where three successive crops may be gathered in one year, the condi­ tion of those engaged in agriculture is one of extreme poverty and wretchedness; the sheikh, the pacha, or other grandee, enrich themselves, and live luxurious and debauched lives at the cost of the suffering and misery of the peasant. If his purchas­ ing power was measured by the productiveness of his labour, and the bountifulness of nature, the Egyptian peasant would re­ quire three times the quantity of European manufactures now exported thither. In India we have a teeming population of 254,000,000. The amount of British exports thereto in 1883 was ^33,382,786, D �34 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. an average of only 2s. 7d. per head of the population. The population of British Australasia, including Fiji but excluding New Guinea, is about 3,100,000 ; the amount of British exports thither in 1883 was ^26,839,490, averaging about ^8 13s. od. per head of the population. The amount of imports into Great Britain from British India in 1883 were of the value of ^38,882,829, averaging about 3s. per head of its population. The imports here from British Australasia in 1883 were valued at ^25,936,201, or about ^8 10s. od. per head. The total value of the foreign trade of British India in 1883, in exports and imports of all kinds of merchandise, averaged but 5^ rupees (equal to 9s. 6d. in English money) per head of the population. In 1882 the total value of the exports and imports of the British possessions in Australasia amounted to ^108,690,000, an average of ^35 per head of population. In 1883 the total value of imports and exports to and from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland was ^732,328,649, or a proportionate average of ^20 ns. 3d. per head of population. Here we have three examples from within our own empire. The economic conditions of the three countries may not be exactly parallel; the necessities of the one may be greater than another, or the richness of the soil of one greater than the others, yet they are not so totally different as to explain away the fact that the surplus production of an Australian is seventy times greater than that of a Hindoo, nor that the re-purchasing power of an Australian should be 130 times greater than the Hindoo. The total imports and exports of the United States of America in 1884 were 1,408,211,302 dollars, equal to about ^281,640,000 ; the estimated population in the same year was 57,000,000, giving an average of about ^4 19s. per head. The inference to be drawn from these facts is a confirmation of the law that the labour of man is like the fruitfulness of the earth : the more it receives back of its own, the more it repro­ duces in return. Those countries where man’s labour is �OUR COLONIES AND INDIA. 35 directly applied to nature, and the distribution of the proceeds is equitably distributed, will be the most prosperous : their reconsumptive capacity will be in the same ratio as their productiveness. Australia is a brilliant example of this truth. Though the productiveness of the soil of a country might with good cultivation be great, if any artificial barriers exist, any obstruction of natural law, and if the wealth produced, such as it is, be inequitably distributed, the reconsumptive powers of the people will be small, their progress fitful and uncertain, their social condition insecure. It is of the highest importance to British industry that in our colonies and dependencies, whilst encouraging agriculture, husbandry, and every means to the production of wealth, we should at the same time inculcate the importance of its distribution, remembering that the more each individual producer or labourer receives back as his share of his own industry, the more will be the individual, and hence the greater the aggregate, reconsumption. The sure foundation of a scheme of imperial federation rests on a moral and not a legislative bond. Our colonies and India can only be bound to us and we to them by the tie of mutuality of interest. No chain, however strong, can be forged by the statesman that will be half so powerful as kindred interests and mutual help­ fulness. It would seem to be a corollary of the industrial revolution that agricultural must be for ever severed from manufacturing pursuits. The economy of the latter is in concentration of population and vast mechanical establishments, carried on under conditions fatal to agricultural life, and destructive of vegetation. Although, with a reform in the land laws and the encouragement of smaller holdings, we may vastly increase the productiveness of English soil, and thus increase our wealth in the most effectual because the most natural way, the prosperity of our industrial population largely depends on the closeness of the relationship we hold with the Greater England in our colonies and India. Because of the natural advantages D 2 �36 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. we possess in the industrial arts and manufactures, and because of the immense advantages they possess in agriculture and husbandry, and richness of soil and climate for the production of raw commodities and food stuffs, we are now mutually dependent upon each other. The closer the association and intercourse we have, the higher the morality practised in exchange; the more economic and moral the system of distribution, the greater will be the benefits we can confer on each other and the more lasting the union. We have proof of this in our government of India : under the “ Old Company” disaffection was rife, the social condition was uncertain and insecure; the Company ruled India for the benefit of its shareholders, and cared little for the welfare of the natives. Since the direct assumption by the British government of the administrative and governing functions, progress has been marvellous and prosperity and contentment unparalleled. The principle on which that government has been based is that it must be for the benefit and in the interests of the natives first of all, and for the British trader in a secondary degree. The outcome of a policy so just and natural has been the progress and advancement of the natives and an increased productiveness. In this progress the British trader has benefited. The policy of extortion pursued by the old Com­ pany was killing the goose that laid the golden egg; the policy of British government has been to stimulate the goose, and encourage it by stimulation to be more productive. All have mutually participated in this increased activity. The results of such an enlightened policy will be yet more startling. The increased incentives to industry the natives of India are gradually receiving will vastly increase their production of raw commodities. Their importations to Europe will constantly grow in volume. The more equitably the pro­ ceeds of this increased productiveness are distributed, the greater will be the quantities of European manufactures they can take back in exchange. Instead of an average of 9s. 6d. per head on imports and exports, we may look forward to the �REFORMED GOVERNMENT OF INDIA—ITS RESULTS. 'ifl time when the average may be raised to as many pounds sterling as it is now shillings. * The infatuated and impolitic attempt of the mother country to levy taxation on the North American colonies, resulting in the revolt and final declaration of independence of the thirteen colonies which afterwards formed the United States, will for ever be a lesson in colonial government and legislation. The policy of extortion failed. The colonists resented an unjust exaction on the proceeds of their toil and enterprise. As it is in imperial legislation, so it is in industrial affairs. The path­ way to unity, peace, and progress lies in justice and equity, in giving to the community and the individual the full reward of toil and labour. * The progress that trade has made in India since the “Old Company” was overthrown and the government taken in hand by the British Government, for the benefit of the people of India, not for a class, will be more forcibly im­ pressed upon the reader by the following statement of imports and exports at five decennial periods :— IMPORTS. 1882-3 1872-3 1862-3 £ £ Merchandise Treasure . Total 1852-3 £ 1842-3 £ . . 52,090,000 13,450,000 31,870,000 4,560,000 22,630,000 20,510,000 10,070,000 6,830,000 7,600,000 3,440,000 . 65,540,000 36,430,000 • 43,140,000 16,900,000 11,040,000 EXPORTS. 1882-3 Total 1872-3 1862-3 1852-3 1842-3 £ £ 83,480,000 1,040,000 55,250,000 1,300,000 47,860,000 1,110,000 20,460,000 1,060,000 i3> 55°,°oo 220,000 84,520,000 56,550,000 48,970,000 21,520,000 13.770,0°° £ Merchandise Treasure . £ The territories formerly possessed by the East India Company were by the Act of Parliament of 1858 transferred to the British Government. Since then the imports of merchandise have increased five-fold and the exports of merchan­ dise four-fold ; this is a grand example of the material and social progress of a people caused by greater equity in distribution. �CHAPTER V. The Ties which bound together Primitive Communities—The Bond of Kinship and Brotherhood—The Christian and Moral Bond which now binds Men together is the Bond of Humanity—The Analogy, and yet the Contrast, between Primitive and Modern Society—This is the Era of free Competi­ tion and Individualism—The Reforms advocated for Remedying the Evils of the modern Era are, however, all more or less founded on the Primitive Idea of the Family Group and Community of Interests—The true Doctrine of Free Trade—The selfish Individualism that prompted the Support of Manufacturers to the Free Trade Movement. “The most recent researches into the primitive history of society,” says Sir Henry Maine, in his work entitled “ Early History of Institutions,” “point to the conclusion that the earliest tie which knitted men together in communities was consanguinity or kinship. The subject has been approached of late years from several different sides, and theie has been much dispute as to what the primitive blood-relationship implied and how it arose, but there has been general agree­ ment as to the fact I have stated. The caution is, perhaps, needed that we must not form too loose a conception of the kinship which once stood in the place of the multiform influences which are now the cement of human societies. It was regarded as an actual bond of union, and in no respect as a sentimental one. The notion of what, for want of a better phrase, I must call a moral brotherhood in the whole human race has been steadily gaining ground during the whole course of history, and we have now a large abstract term answering to this notion—humanity. The most powerful of the agencies which have brought about this broader and larger view of kinship has undoubtedly been religion.” A German writer has tersely said, “The family is the ground form of human society prepared by nature itself, and necessary to a moral and industrious union,” �PRIMITIVE SOCIETY. 39 In the researches and writings of Van Maurer, Nasse, Stubbs, Laveleye, and Sir Henry Maine and others, we have a clear exposition of the structure of primitive society. The collective ownership of the soil by groups of men, either in fact united by blood-relationship or believing or assuming that they were so united, is now admitted to take rank as an ascertained primitive phenomenon, once universally characterising those communities of mankind between whose civilisation and our own there is any distinct connection or analogy. The ancient village community was an association of kinsmen united by the assumption of a common lineage, so organised as to be complete in itself. The end for which it existed was the tillage of the soil, and it contained within itself every element for the attainment of its end without extraneous help from outside. Sir Henry Maine describes the village community—still found in the eastern world—as a community so organised as to be complete in itself. The brotherhood, besides the culti­ vating families who form the major part of the group, com­ prises families hereditarily engaged in the humble arts which furnish the little community with articles of use and comfort. Within the primitive village community competition was unknown. The measure of price was custom; it was considered unnatural and cruel to drive a bargain with a kinsman. Usury was as baneful and as much spurned as by the law of Moses. The Scotch clans and Irish tribes were groups founded on the family tie. “ As regards guilds,” says Sir Henry Maine, “ I certainly think that they have been much too confidently attributed to a relatively modern origin, and that many of them, and much which is common to all of them, may be suspected to have grown out of the primitive brotherhoods of co-villagers and kinsmen. The trading guilds which survive in our own country have undergone every sort of transmuta­ tion which can disguise their parentage. They have long since relinquished the occupations which gave them a nam . They mostly trace their privileges and constitutions to some �40 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. royal charter; and kingly grants, real or fictitious, are the great cause of interruption in English history. Yet anybody who, with a knowledge of primitive law and history, examines the internal mechanism and proceedings of a London Com­ pany, will see in many of them plain traces of the ancient brotherhood of kinsmen ‘joint in food, worship, and estate.’ ” It is a remarkable fact, and a pleasing evidence of their attachment to and faith in the polity of their collective enjoy­ ment of property, that the earliest English emigrants to North America, who belonged principally to the class of yeomanry, organised themselves at first in village communities for pur­ poses of cultivation. When a town was organised, the process was that “ the General Court granted a tract of land to a com­ pany of persons. The land was first held by the company as property in common.” The modem era is one of free competition and indivi­ dualism. It is remarkable how the reforms set forth for reforming the evils of the modern era are all more or less founded on the primitive idea of the family group and the bond of kinship and community of interest. It is on this idea of brotherhood and community of interests that the reforms of Robert Owen, in England, and Fourier, in France, were based and advocated; it is on this idea that presentday socialism is founded, and on which existing movements are established. In varying degree it is the chief corner­ stone of the co-operative movement in England, a movement which is the outcome of Robert Owen’s work, though far from his ideal of co-operative action, as it also falls far short of the aspirations of its promoters and leading advocates. The idea of community of interests is also to be seen in working-men’s associations in England and on the Continent, in the Famili­ stère, at Guise, and the Maison Leclaire, at Paris. In the attempts now being made to found industrial villages and small farms’ associations, we find the primitive idea of social relationship—namely, community of interest and co-operative action—clearly reflected. In all this we have a living evidence �PRIMITIVE SOCIETY AND USURY AND EXCHANGE. 41 of the lasting truths of justice, and mutual helpfulness, and interdependence on which primitive society was founded. “Among the Greeks,” says Dr. Smith, the Greek historian, “ as among every people which has just emerged from bar­ barism, the family relations are the grand sources of lasting union and devoted attachment. All the members of a family or a clan were connected by the closest ties, and were bound to revenge with their united strength an injury offered to any individual of the race. In the heroic age, as in other early stages of society, we find the stranger treated with generous hospitality : the chief welcomes him to his house, and does not inquire his name, nor the object of his journey, till he has placed before him his best cheer.” The predominant feature of primitive society, standing out clear and bright amid all that is dark and harsh, is that the little groups—the family, the village community, the tribe, or the small state, were within themselves actuated by a spirit of co-operation and thoroughgoing community of interest. They looked upon the land as a common inheritance ; they worked and laboured nature to live; they thoroughly grasped the first axiom of economics, that their comfort and happiness, their wealth, consisted in the productiveness of the earth, and that the productiveness of the land was in proportion to the labour they put into it. They were wiser than we in grasping the truth that exchange is not production ; on the contrary, it is rather akin to usury. Honest labour was no degradation ; the headman, the chief, or the king did not consider it deroga­ tory to acquire skill in manual arts : simplicity of manners was a marked feature of primitive society; “ the wives and daughters of the chiefs in like manner did not deem it beneath them to discharge various duties which were afterwards regarded as menial. Not only do we find them constantly employed in weaving, spinning, and embroidery, but, like the daughters of the patriarchs, they fetch water from the well, and assist their slaves in washing garments in the river.” Within the community we find trafficking discountenanced �42 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. among themselves. Competition was unknown. It is only in the conflict of one community, or tribe, or petty state against another we see anything approaching a struggle for existence. Every community outside their community was considered a deadly foe, not of so much interest as the dog that followed them or the beasts on whom they fed. What an analogy, and yet what a contrast, between primitive and modem society! We, like them, proclaim the bond of community of interest and the tie of brotherhood and kinship j unlike them, we own the tie of kinship embraces not only our fellow-countrymen, our state, our fatherland, but, professing the religion of Jesus Christ, we own every man a brother. The Christian religion, like the religion of the Stoic philosophers, teaches us that “ Divine Providence has appointed the world to be a common city for men, and each one of us to be a part of the vast social system.” But how unlike the spirit of this profession is the practice of modern society, the modern era of free competition ! Notwithstanding its professions, is it not an era of social strife and warfare? Not long ago in the House of Commons, in a private conversation, I heard a Member of Parliament say that life was a race for wealth, trade and industry were a struggle for existence, the fittest survived and the weakest went to the wall. It was a law of political economy, and could not be helped. It was a good thing for those who survived, and a bad job for those who had to go under, but it always had been so, and must continue. The gentleman who gave expression to this opinion is a so-called representative of progress and reform■ he is an active member of a Christian Church, a disciple of the doctrine of free trade, an upholder of the rights and liberties of the people, a large employer of labour, and, as may be expected, a great capitalist. This version of the industrial problem is one that is, alas ! too generally held. The anomaly one daily, almost hourly, meets with, is the professor of the free-trade dictum and the capitalist monopolist rolled together into one individual. Free trade is a doctrine which is very respectable, very high- �PREF. TRADE AND NATURAL LAW. 43 sounding, and therefore very desirable to subscribe to. Monopoly in ownership of land is a national sin and a great social injustice, but concentration and monopoly of capital is a grand achievement. It was a crime against humanity for the land monopolist, the feudal baron, to hold in serfage his brother man the villein; it is a monstrous evil for the modern landlord to exact a high rental from his tenant, and for the tenant farmer to pay his labourer only ios. to 12s. a week, little more than a pauper’s relief; it is a national crime for the said agricultural labourer to be debarred the franchise; but in the eyes of these free traders, these large employers of labour, these capitalist monopolists, it is no sin nor moral wrong to grow rich on paying 4s. a week wages to children who ought to be at school, or 13s. to 15s. a week to adults for fifty-six hours of labour; nor is it in the eyes of their brother capitalists and brother free traders, the wholesale and retail distributors, a crime to re-sell to these miserably-paid labourers their own productions at 100 per cent, profit, nor to depress the wages of the home labourer by the prejudice and favouritism they give to the encouragement of foreign industries. The doctrines of free trade and the truths of political economy are founded on higher moral and natural laws than these professed saviours of society, these miserable comforters, are ever likely to comprehend. For what is the doctrine of free trade, but an exposition of the natural law that man has the natural right to obtain the necessaries of life simply at the cost of the labour expended in the obtaining of them. The first command of God to man, to multiply and replenish the earth, to subdue it, and have dominion over it, was the first preaching of the free-trade doctrine. The laws of Moses, in fact the whole teaching of Scripture, are the teachings of free trade. No one was to stand betwixt the labourer and his natural right to obtain the necessaries of life from his toil. “ Thou shalt not oppress an hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy brethren or of thy strangers that are in thy land within thy gates. At his day �44 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. thou shalt give him his hire, neither shall the sun go down upon it, for he is poor and setteth his heart upon it, lest he cry against thee unto the Lord, and it be a sin unto thee.” * “ If thou lend money to any of my people that is poor by thee, thou shalt not be to himas an usurer, neither shalt thou lay upon him usury. If thou at all take thy neighbour’s raiment to pledge, thou shalt deliver it unto him by that the sun goeth down. For that is his only covering, it is his raiment for his skin wherein shall he sleep, and it shall come to pass when he crieth unto me, that I will hear him, for I am gracious. ” f The true doctrine of free trade is a noble and a heavenly teaching when fully and justly applied, but in the partial and interested way in which we have seen it applied it has been only half a blessing. Free trade means products at Nature s prices. In the obtaining of raw commodities, whether of food or articles for manufacture, we have the benefits of free trade. Our manufacturers and importers have the advantages of free imports, but in the supplying of our individual wants we have neither free trade nor free competition : we pay the prices and cost of monopoly and restriction. The benefits of free trade will not be diffused until, besides the removal of the barriers of import duties, we remove the barriers and the costliness of the multiplicity of exchangers and distributors. The exponents of the free-trade doctrine will not be true to their mission until they establish and enforce the principle that the labourer shall have his fair share of the proceeds of his labour, and the necessities of life at the minimum price. In the early part of this century it was a necessity of our condition that new fields of enterprise should be opened out. What with the oppression of the land laws and the severity of taxation following on the costly Napoleonic wars, the change from domestic to mechanical production, and the legacy of centuries of class legislation and misrule, the time had come when a change in our fiscal policy was demanded. * Deuteronomy, xxiv. 14 and 15. f Exodus, xxii. 25-27. �FREE TRADE AND CAPITALISM. 45 The relief was found in the repeal of the corn laws, and the gradual removal of all import duties on commodities for manufacture or food. A necessity of the new era of steam engines and mechanical production, the substitution of machine production for hand­ labour, was that we should have raw material at the smallest cost and in the largest quantities. So every large' employer of labour under the factory system was of necessity an advocate of, and clamoured for, free trade. He wanted wool imported free. The English farmer did not grow enough either in quantity or variety. The new system of production had drawn and was drawing the population from the rural districts to the towns, partly because their occupation in domestic industry was gone. Cheap food was a necessity, it allowed lower wages to be paid the operative; the repeal of the corn laws and the free im­ portation of foreign corn ensured a cheaper loaf. Why should the English farmer be protected at the cost of the new capitalist manufacturer? The cheaper production of the power-loom gave the new English manufacturer a great advantage over his foreign competitor in all the markets of the world. A necessity of his continued prosperity was that, in exchange for his manu­ factured article we should take the natural produce of other countries ; like Cato, the slave-owner of old, who justified the institution of slavery, first of all for his own aggrandizement and wealth, and, secondarily only, for the accidental good of his slaves, the English manufacturer early became a free-trader, first of all for his own good, secondarily only for the good of his operatives and the community generally. �CHAPTER VI. The Industrial Revolution and Unjust Land Laws have Contributed to the Sacrifice"t>f the more Natural Agricultural Pursuits for the more Artificial Industrial Callings—The Malthusian Theory Proved to be Untrue— Free Trade has given us the Benefit of Natural Prices in raw materials, but the Result of the Free-Trade Policy as Hitherto Applied has Brought About a Concentration and Monopoly of Capital—The Accumulation ot Capital in a Few Hands is as Detrimental to the Well-being of a Country as Land Monopoly—Protection and the Consequent Dearness of Provisions was before the Repeal of the Corn Laws Ascribed as the Cause of the then Existing Depression—Now Lowness of Prices and Cheapness are Ascribed as the Cause of the Present Depression : What an Anomaly !— Land-Law Reform—The Natural Law of Rents. By the industrial revolution, the depopulation of the rural dis­ tricts, consequent on the substitution of mechanical for domes­ tic production, and by the cruel and unjust system of land tenure and ownership, we have gradually seen in this country agricultural pursuits sacrificed for the more artificial industrial callings, until at last husbandry, the most direct means of obtaining wealth, and that most natural of all callings, the culti­ vation of the soil, have sunk into utter insignificance. The land laws and the industrial revolution have together alienated the worker from the soil; for our prosperity we are dependent on foreign trade, and go begging of our colonies and foreign countries to take our manufactures, in exchange for their food and raw material. But there is a bright side to this revolution: like all revolulutions it has not only brought about a new condition of things, but it has torn down barriers ; one of the barriers it has re­ moved is the barrier of localism and nationality. The steam-engine has not only drawn the labourers closer together in vast industrial establishments, it has also drawn continent nearer to continent, it has reduced distance and economised time; if it has brought about more minute divisions �LAND MONOPOLY AND CAPITAL MONOPOLY. of labour, it has also extended the application and employment of labour. Our interests are now world-wide. Less than a century ago, the interests of a state were all but restricted within its frontier; the interchange of productions was limited to the smallest possible limit; jealousy, mistrust, and consequent strife predominated. Laws were made on the assumption that each country’s wealth, and means of subsistence, must be raised within itself; the price of a commodity was not what it could be produced at in the most favoured spot, but what it could be grown for at home. The free-trade policy, so far as pursued, has given us the untold advantage of natural prices for raw commodities ; it has exposed the cruelty and injustice of our land laws, and of land monopoly—for these blessings we are thankful. But a result of the free-trade policy, as hitherto applied, has been the creation of a new and powerful monopoly, a monopoly and concentration of capital. This new power is no doubt also partly the out­ growth of the new and gigantic method of production in manu­ factures. Monopoly of capital, or too great an accumulation of it in a limited number of possessors, is as pernicious and disastrous to a country’s well-being and progress as is a monopoly of land. Both are natural products. Land, like capital, is reproductive in proportion to the extent it is worked and utilised. Each, when held in monopoly, reduce the labour that gives them their return, whether of usury, profit, or interest, to the con­ dition of dependency. Where dependency exists, there is rarely to be found justice. To have justice does not imply that you must have equality. If free trade has shown the injustice of land monopoly, it has also shown the injustice of capital monopoly. Before the repeal of the corn laws, and the adoption of partial free trade, the cry went up that men were starving because of the dearness and scarcity of food. To-day the cry is that men are starving, and wanting employment, although there is abundance and �4% distribution reform. cheapness. The price of corn is lower than has ever been known in modern times ; raw materials are well-nigh considered to be at panic prices. The Malthusian theory, that population would increase in a greater ratio than the means of existence could be raised from the earth, has been proved to be utterly false and a delusion. * Vast new tracts of continent, in all parts of the earth, have been and are now being opened up Their productiveness of the necessities and luxuries of life are so great, that the capitalists are now crying out Stop, stop '__your supplies are so much greater than the demand, the consequent fall in prices destroys our gain. We cannot turn over the stocks we must hold quick enough ; we are caught by lower prices before we can get quit of past purchases. The misery and depression before the repeal of the corn laws was because of scarcity and dearness. The depression Of MnUh a n0t:WOrthy fact- and rather * sarcastic one, too, that the doctrines of Malthus, who was a minister of the Christian religion, should now be d t7 a.lea^Ue mamly comPosed of Atheists and Freethinkers. TAe althunan has its home m the Freethought Publishing Offices; amono-st the Vice-Presidents of the Malthusian League are Mrs. Besant and Mr Chas Bradlaugh, and other English and Continental Freethinkers. Makhus arrived at his conclusions when misery and wretchedness overo?T beffi/OUntrieSffi P6’ bUt MalthUS mistook the causation. Instead o it being an insufficiency and incapacity of nature to provide the means of subsistence, the misery and wretchedness was caused by the despotism and greed of the privileged classes, by the destruction of wars and the^yranny of Ind'the T PHTShed the firSt 6diti0n °f WS 6SSay on PoPuiation in and the second and larger edition in r8o3 ; it is therefore evident he formed his opinion from observations and experiences of the time, and the miserable condition of affairs that brought about the French Revolution. One can understand Atheists and Freethinkers evincing a faithlessness in God’s promises and lmP ying a want of Perfection and completeness in nature, and therefore eoffidfi d^l ' £lmSelf ; bUt h diffiCUR tO beli6Ve these impressions Ch t P KCLln! ?e mmd °f a minister and Professor of the religion of Jesus Christ. If Malthus were living to-day, it would be difficult for him to explain that the misery and depression now prevailing were occasioned by the excess of population. We have abundance and to spare, goods are rotting because they are not consumed, yet people are in want, on the verge of starvation. Misery and suffering are the creation of man, the remedy is in man s hands The problem is not in the creation of the means of subsistence but m tneir distribution. ’ �LAND LAW REFORM. 49 now existing is because of plentifulness and cheapness. What an anomaly! Starvation and want are a natural conse­ quence of scarcity and dearness, and are easy to understand ; but starvation and want with superabundance and cheapness, are unnatural, and betoken injustice, and wrong-doing, and un­ soundness in our social economy. Distribution, it is unanimously agreed, must be the reform for land monopoly. Large landed proprietors admit that the yeo­ man, the peasant proprietor, must be tempted back to the soil. Legislation has decreed that in Ireland ownership and occu­ pancy must go together. Contracts as to rent must not be held sacred; fair rents are fixed by law, and not by competi­ tion. Money is advanced by the State to encourage a wider distribution of ownership of land. Legislation will be necessary to land-law reform, for until the unjust laws which now tie up the land in vast estates are removed, natural law cannot prevail. Once remove those relics of feudalism, the land question in England will settle itself. The peasant proprietor will be attracted back to its cultivation j the matters of value and fair rents will solve themselves. Free land would be possible with the enactment of Mr. Arthur Arnold’s programme of land-law reform, viz. :— 1. Abolition of the law of primogeniture. 2. Abolition of copyhold and customary tenure. 3- Prohibition of settlement of land upon unborn persons, and of the general power of creating life-estates in land. 4. Conveyance by registration of title; all interests in the property registered to be recorded. 5. Provision for the sale of encumbered settled property. Free land once established, as I have already said, values and rents would speedily be settled by natural law. The process is already at work; rents are being reduced voluntarily, to keep the farmer on the land and prevent it going out of cultivation. E �50 DIS TRIBUTION REFORM. What is the natural law of rents ? It is that the rental of all land must be no more than will allow the productions for which it is most suited to be grown and cultivated at prices that will compete with similar productions grown in the most favoured spot on earth, allowing for sustenance for the labourer and the cost of transit. If wheat can be grown cheaper in the north-west provinces of Canada, and put on the market in Liverpool at a lower rate than Russian or Hungarian or Australian wheat can be landed at Hull or London, then in so far as the English market takes off the surplus productions of these countries, the price of Russian, Hungarian, or Australian will be levelled to that of Manitoba and the north-western Canadian provinces. The price of fine merino wool is no longer ruled by the quantity which can be grown on the plains of Andalusia, the Pyrenees, or the south of France, but by the productiveness and more congenial climate and soil of our Australian colonies. A hundred years ago the price of fine merino wool averaged about 3s. 3d. per lb. : to-day the average price is about is. 6d.; a hundred years ago the importation of wool into this country amounted to an average of about 2,500,000 lbs.; the quantity in 1883 amounted to 495,946,779 lbs. The price of butchers’ meat, although now ruled by the butchers, based on the prices they pay (not to say dictate) to the English grazier, must ere long be influenced by the prices which the stock breeders on the cattle ranches in the United States, the Brazils, and South America, and the sheep farmers in Australia, can afford to offer their meat in this country dead or alive. Science is coming to their aid; what they cannot send alive they can refrigerate. For all practical purposes, Texas or the country on the River Plate, or South Australia or New Zealand, are speedily becoming as much our bases of supplies, as the fields adjoining the monastery were the only means of provisioning the larders of the monks of old, five centuries ago. The representatives of the feudal system, as regards the �^MONOPOLY AND THE RICHES OF NATURE. 5I ownership and monopoly of land, have brought about their own Klin. The laws of primogeniture and entail, the policy of monopoly and restriction, have driven the yeoman and peasant from the soil, and given an impetus to colonisation and settle­ ment on virgin soil. The forty millions of Anglo-Saxons who have colonised the American continent, Australasia, South Africa, or who have emigrated to other lands, have dictated the terms on which the English land question must be settled. It is obvious the settlement must be that whoever is the occupier of the land, whether owner or tenant, must be in possession on such terms as will allow him to compete with his brethren who have wandered further over the earth’s surface, who labour nature under more natural, and therefore more favourable, circumstances. The struggle may be severe, but sooner or later land in this country must come down to its natural price, or must go out of cultivation more and more. Legislation may help on the struggle to a speedier close by abolishing the law of primogeniture and making the transfer and conveyancing of land more simple and economic, but existing laws and customs cannot prevent this consummation of natural law. The millions who have left these shores to makes homes in far-off lands—homes whose happiness and prosperity have been founded on the most natural and most secure foundations, the pastoral life and husbandry—have rendered a mighty service to their fellow-countrymen and to humanity. They have Remonstrated that the measure of values in old countries must approximate to those of virgin and favoured lands, that the monopoly and usury of man is powerless against the riches and boundlessness of nature. God, in His all-wise providence, is Ro respecter of persons; the fulness of the earth is His and they that dwell therein. He gives to all according to their labour; to obtain dominion over the earth and subdue it, man has God’s command and nature’s reciprocal aid. But for man to have dominion over man, for the individual to live idly on the monopoly of the earth and the proceeds therefrom, or E 2 �52 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. on his fellow-man’s toil, there is no justification or warranty, neither in revealed nor natural religion. It will require no unsheathing of the sword, no bloody revolution, no spoliation nor robbery, no violation of vested interests, to restore occupancy to ownership of land ; they are the natural condition. For centuries, through the jealousy and envy of the rulers of nations, the narrowness and bigotry of the priesthood, and the darkness and ignorance in which the people were kept, land in European countries was a monopoly. The people working it lived in thraldom. But now, under the name of civilisation, European countries are vying one with another in colonisation and territorial acquisi­ tion. Whatever may be the true cause of this new and burning desire to spread the benefits of civilisation, its only effect will be to make the whole world kin, to break down national barriers to the free intercourse of peoples, and in so far as regards the providing of the necessaries of life, it is making the whole earth one vast harvest-field. As we have already remarked, the application of physical science has well-nigh annihilated distance. Against the spirit of enterprise and freedom no land laws can be of any avail. If rich soil in a splendid climate can be purchased at an acre, or rented at 2S. an acre, and the product of it, by the aid of steam and that natural highway, the mighty ocean—over which no man has yet claimed a monopoly nor demanded any rent—can be carried ten thousand miles at less cost than a similar given quantity could be carried fifty miles sixty years ago, it is very clear that land in an old country must approximate to the value or rental of that in a new country; this new “ civilisation ” and values must go hand in hand. It is monstrous to suppose that the remnants of feudalism can stand against these new and mighty economic factors. It is a noteworthy fact, however protec­ tionist a country may be—and many civilising countries are protectionist—not one refuses to sell its surplus products. A country may seek to protect the industry of its people and colonists or dependents by import dut:es> but no country �THE REMEDY FOR SOCIAL EVILS. 53 strives to impede the disposal of its surplus products. The result is, a country pursuing a free-trade policy, like England, obtains its supplies at the very lowest price; but the country­ enjoying these privileges—or rather would I say, these natural rights—truly needs the highest culture in economic and moral science. As Aristotle remarked, the inhabitants of the Fortu­ nate Isles, which were supposed to be surpassing rich, stood itt need of greater than ordinary wisdom, that they might use their wealth and advantages aright. So with us, in order that the abundance and advantages we enjoy may be widely dif­ fused, and that the productiveness of our land may be main­ tained and be made the support of as great a number as possible—notwithstanding the surplus supplies we may obtain elsewhere—for this we must see to, if we are not to accept an altogether artificial position, it behoves us to cultivate a high standard of morality in exchange, and a just, wise, and free system and method of distribution. Just as we have neglected these essential elements to a sound economic -and perfect social life, and given greater importance to obtaining and producing wealth, so have we gradually drifted into the con­ dition in which we now find ourselves—a condition, as we have before stated, in which we have a superabundance of wealth and the greatest difficulty to find a use for it—a superabundance of goods, and the greatest difficulty to find a sale for them— provisions abundant, and the consequent lowness of prices causing serious alarm to importers and dealers ; and yet, with all this so-called abundance, we have thousands in want—many starving who would be users of this wealth, and con­ sumers of this abundance, if they had the opportunity to work, or working, were allowed an equitable share in the wealth they created. Distribution Reform is the remedy for this anomalous con­ dition of affairs; and it is to the present system of distribution and its evils we will now turn our attention. �CHAPTER VII. The Present System of Distribution unsatisfactory and unjust—The Producer is depressed, the Consumer extorted : Consumption is therefore Limited and the Demand for Labour Restricted—Competition rules Prices in Pro­ duction and Wholesale Distribution, but in Retail Trading Custom and not Competition rules the Prices Consumers have to pay—This statement illustrated Example of Inequities and Injustices in Distribution in various trades and industries. The statement of the industrial problem submitted for con­ sideration at the conference to which I have referred in my preliminary remarks, was as follows :— “A the present system or manner whereby the products of industry are distributed as between various classes and persons of the community satisfactory, or, if not, are there any means by which that system could be improved This statement of the question I will accept as the text on which I will base the following remarks on the industrial question. The present system of distribution is not only unsatisfactory but unjust, because betwixt producer and consumer are a num­ ber of unnecessary and costly intermediaries, which raise the price of commodities against the consumer, and, therefore, limit consumption, depress wages and capital employed in production, and which, by reason of the barriers they set up against free competition, rob the consumer of what, in an economic system of distribution, would be the natural or minimum prices, and the producer of that which in the primi­ tive condition was his inalienable right, the full reward of his labour and product of his industry. It is unsatisfactory, for whilst, during the past eighty years, every attention has been given to increasing production and reducing its cost, distribution, the helpmeet of production, remains unreformed and uneconomised. Notwithstanding the �COMPETITION DOES NOT RULE EVERYTHING. 55 facilities of cheap transport and rapid communication, which I have already commented upon, by reason of the unnecessary number of distributors, and because of narrow trade prejudices and obstructions tending to monopolies, the process is enor­ mously wasteful, more costly to the consumer than in the days of the pedlar and the pack-horse. The abstract political economist satisfies himself with the idea that the inexorable law of supply and demand, together with an active competition, keep down inordinate profits and bring down prices to th® lowest remunerative level. How often we are told competition rules everything. No doubt competition does rule prices in the active wholesale markets, but in retail distribution, in the supplying of our actual necessities, the most important matter in the business of our daily existence, prices are not ruled by competition but by custom. The political economist will render a great service to society if he will co-operate in the work of reforming the present anomalous and unjust method and practice of distribution, making it conformable to his law, which is no doubt true and sound in the abstract, but which is outraged in a most glaring manner, causing suffering and injustice, and being the cause of many social evils. Economy in production is a science. Competition is so keen, profits in manufactures of all kinds have gravitated to the minimum or altogether vanished. Manufacturers fight against a trifling increase of wages, the slightest increase in railway rates, or the smallest addition whatsoever to the cost of production, as a matter of life, and death ; but between the prices at which they have to sell their goods to the wholesale distributors, and the prices which the consumer pays to the retailer, there is a margin of at least fifty per cent., affording a wide field for economic treatment, to the great advantage and harmonious working of our industrial system, to capitalist and labourer as producers, and the whole community as consumers. The competition of manufacturers one against another for the business of wholesale distributors, and that of wholesale distributors against each other for the business of the retailer �56 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. depresses prices, and reacts first of all on the wages of the worker to the extent of depressing them to the point of rupture between capital and labour. This must be so, for in individual enterprise, seeing the capitalist manufacturer is in business first of. all for the good of himself, and only after that for the accidental good of any whom it may concern, it is fair to assume that wages will be made to suffer before the capitalist is affected. This competition of manufacturer against manufacturer, and wholesale distributor against wholesale distributor, does not benefit the consumer, because the competition of retail distri­ butors, for the demands of consumers, is not, as in production and wholesale distribution, a competition of values; it is a com­ petition for custom, for arresting public attention, which en­ hances, rather than lowers, the price to the consumer. The multiplicity of retail distributors does not lower prices, nor make an economy; the trade is only divided amongst a greater number. Competition amongst them takes the form of rivalry as to who can spend the most money in advertising, or pay the highest premium for a good position, or who can fix up the most expensive and attractive shop-front, for all of which the consumer has to pay. They are all taxes and additions to the cost of distribution. It is in retail distribution the same as in insurance, increased competition largely increases the cost of obtaining business. The cost in the former comes out of the consumer, in the latter from the insured. The individual consumer cannot, for his comparatively small wants, be an expert in values in all branches of trade; he cannot bring to bear on the retailer the same artfulness in com­ petition which the retailer brings to bear on producer and wholesale distributor. In large wholesale transactions, although it is assumed com­ petition decides the sale, it is a misnomer to call it competition. Stratagem and artfulness are powerful weapons in the hands of the buyer. For example, suppose I am about to buy a quan­ �COMPETITION IN PRODUCTION. 57 tity of textile fabrics of a standard character: a number of manufacturers, well known to me, are producers of the goods I am open to buy, I ask them all for samples, and by compari­ son select two or three makers’ goods for final treatment. I go to maker No. i and say I have a favourable inclination to his goods, but others are equally satisfactory; will he please look into his prices and see if he can do better; to No. 2 and No. 3 I say much the same. No. 2 shortly comes and says the quotations are already very low, but to secure the order he will make a reduction of, say, one shilling per piece. I thank him for his offer, and condole with him on the keenness of competition. No. 1 also comes along, and says he will also make a reduction of one shilling, but I tell him another most able competitor of his has already offered the same; in a war­ like spirit, with protestations of the valour of his firm, and their determination not to be beaten by anybody, not to be done he offers to take two shillings per piece off. I also sympathise with him on the harshness of competition, but as business is a race for wealth, and the fittest survives, I tell him the matter must stand for a day or two until I see what I can do. Mean­ while manufacturer No. 3 comes round, whom I know as a nominal social friend of No. 2 : they dine at the club together, worship at the same church, and stand side by side on the same political platform. We begin our conversation about the com­ mercial outlook, flounder about and stumble over time-worn economic fallacies, and then settle down to business. I begin by saying, Well what about this order?—I have got some very low quotations j prices are weaker ; now, what is the very best you can do ? He looks at me most anxiously and inquiringly ; after a moment’s silence he says, Well, here goes: I will take one shilling and sixpence per piece off my quotation. Oh ! say I, that is no use. So-and-so, naming No. 2, has already offered to take two shillings off his quotations ; you know his is a good firm, plenty of capital, and determined not to be beaten. Maker No. 3 replies, Neither am I going to be beaten. I took a large order out of his hands the other day, besides his goods �58 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. are not so well made as mine; there are no more perfect goods in the trade than ours. Although he and I are friendly, rather than let him have the order, I will take three shillings per piece off if you will settle it at once. After some further talk, I eventually give him a good order at three shillings per piece off his quotations. By a little artfulness and diplomacy I have had prices reduced three shillings per piece, but it does not follow supply and demand, or fair competition, had anything to do with it. Probably not one piece more or less will be sold because of the reduction I obtained. Each competitor was ignorant of the true facts ; personal jealousy and rivalry was a greater factor than any economic laws. Such cases are of frequent occurrence ; in the long run wages suffer. Such a system of so-called competition would be impossible with a well-organised and moral system of distribution. Each compe­ titor would be conversant with the real state of the market, and know the full extent of the demand, and participate in the true market price. * Now, supposing I were to pursue the same tactics in buying a suit of clothes, or a sack of flour, I should be kicked out of the retailer’s shop, and be called a bore and a screw. Fancy any one going to the tailors, and asking them to send patterns and quotations for comparison, and pitching one off against the other, in order to get the prices lowered ; or going to two or three grocers and asking for samples of flour, and using the arts of diplomacy and the craft of competition; it would be considered a waste of time, a mean thing to do, and a pernicious attempt to encroach on the profits of the poor retailer. In the selling of the labourer’s work, which is what a manufacturer has to do, competition rules the market; but in supplying one’s everyday wants custom dictates prices or the rate of profit—the labourer is depressed by competition, the consumer is at the mercy of the retailer. * The above is a specimen of present-day competition amongst manufac­ turers. A few years ago the position was reversed : the merchant went, with bated breath and lowly demeanour, to the manufacturer, thinking it a favour to get goods on the makers’ own terms. �COMPETITION IN DISTRIBUTION. 59 Not only is the present system of distribution unsatisfac­ tory, but it is also unjust, because it tends to the inequitable distribution of wealth, and is the cause of the worst of our social evils. The Report of the Royal Commissioners for Inquiring into the Housing of the Working Classes, on the evidence given before them, has most emphatically denounced the system of middlemanism, the house-jobbers, the house­ farmers, or house-knackers, who stand between the freeholder and the occupier, and who fix the rent of the tenement houses. To this system is attributed the worst phases of the over­ crowding and misery of the poor of London. It was proved in evidence that in some cases the house-jobbers obtained ^iooa year by letting houses out in single rooms, for which they paid to the proprietor a rental of only ^20. The same policy is at work in the industries of the country; the pro­ ducer, like the freeholder of the slums of London, receives but a small fractional part of the proceeds of his industry; he pro­ duces in quantity, middlemanism distributes in detail, and takes the lion’s share of the spoils. The following are a few examples of the inequity and wastefulness of the system of distribution :—With best wheat at 33s. to 35s. a quarter, super flour sells at 2od. per stone, leaving a gross profit of 13s. to 15s. a quarter after the expenses of milling and dressing have been provided for. Yet with this margin between the market price, which is the price consumers pay and the price producers receive, agriculturists are depressed. If the margin between the price of flour and the price consumers pay for bakers’ bread was clearly shown, the inequality of the division of the proceeds would appear yet more strikingly. In an article on the retail prices of provisions, in the WzW newspaper, December 27th, 1884, the following remarks were made :—“ The inordinate profits made by the middlemen—that is to say, the salesman and the retailer—amounting in a vast number of articles to even more than 50 per cent., are not merely injurious to the individual purchaser, but detrimental �6o DISTRIBUTION REFORM. to the well-being of the community at large. Productive industry is checked, because the producer cannot find a remu­ nerative sale for his goods; the private consumption of the well-to-do is lessened, and the indigence of the poor rendered more painful to endure, by the inordinately high prices of many of the mere necessaries of life. This statement applies especially to articles of food. At the present moment the price of bread in London bears little or no relation to the price of wheat, which is now so unsaleable that farmers are using it as food for stock. The cost of the 41b. loaf varies from 5d. to 7d., but the guardians of Holbeach Union have just entered into a contract for the supply of the best bread at 3d. for the 41b. If the bakers in Lincolnshire can supply the poor with bread at fd. a pound, there can be no reason why the poor of the metropolis should pay nearly double the amount. “ The same excessive charges on the part of the middlemen are experienced in the case of meat. The announcement is made in the daily journals of Tuesday that the Elderslie steam­ ship had arrived from New Zealand with 25,000 carcases of frozen mutton—the largest consignment ever yet brought to this country in one vessel, which is due to the fact that the ship was constructed specially for this trade. The present price of New Zealand mutton in Smithfield market is from 5d. to 5-Jd. per pound, and the quantity imported has risen in the last three years from 8,840 carcases in 1882, to 98,000 in 1883, and 400,000 in 1884. The question may be asked, What becomes of all this meat ? It is not, as a rule, sold openly by butchers. If a purchaser asks for New Zealand mutton at a butcher’s, he is informed they never keep it, although at the same time twenty or thirty carcases may be hanging up in the back shop, to be retailed to purchasers as prime Dartmoor or some other well-known kind of mutton, at prices varying according to the purses of the customers from is. to iqd. per pound for saddles and legs, the prime cost being under 6d. per pound. This deception can be, and is, very generally practised, because the quality of the meat is of the best character. The disappear. �THE EXTORTIONS OF MIDDLEMEN. 61 Sttice of the half million of New Zealand sheep, that have appa­ rently melted into air, is thus accounted for; and those who know how to recognise this meat by its dark rich tint, and the somewhat purplish colour the cut surface has after exposure to the atmosphere, see enough of it in the London shops to have no doubt upon the subject. “ The evil effect of the monopoly possessed by the salesmen extends widely in every direction. As may have been seen by the recent correspondence that has taken place in our poultry columns, it is almost hopeless for a farmer or producer to send poultry to the London market. However good the birds may be, the price returned is seldom or never remunerative. The consignor has no check whatever on the salesman, and it is too much to expect from human nature, where there are no means of proving what were the actual prices realised, that consignees should in all cases pay over to their clients the full amount which they ought to receive. This circumstance alone, even if there were no other insuperable hindrances, would be fatal to the prosperity of poultry farming. “ In the wholesale fish trade, the existence of the so-called ‘Billingsgate ring’ is notorious. The cheers elicited from many of those present at the meeting of the City Council, when it was proposed to close the New Farringdon Fish Market, were but the natural outcome of the joy of interested mono­ polists. All fish sent for sale must of necessity pass through the hands of the salesmen. They sell for the most they can obtain, and remit the vendor what sum they please. That in one case an average amount of 2d. per pound was returned for fish re-sold for 8d. and 9d. to the fishmonger, and retailed at from is. to is. 6d. to the public, is a fact within our personal knowledge. “It is not -surprising that the injurious monopoly which thus enhances the price of food without benefit to the pro­ ducer should be designated by the latter as ‘ robbery.’ ” This is pretty strong language. I am glad to be able to quote so influential a representative of the country gentleman �62 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. in support of my contention, and will now relate two cases, the truthfulness of which I can vouch for, which corroborate the statement of the Field as regards butchers’ meat and fish. A farmer in a Yorkshire village, stung to revolt by the limitations butchers fixed upon the price he could obtain for his fat cattle, sent an ox to be slaughtered and the carcase dressed and cut up ; he made it known to the villagers that he would retail the best cuts of beef at 6d. per lb., the same cuts for which butchers charged rod. to is. per lb. He thus saved the consumer 50 per cent., and after selling the offal and paying all expenses, he had more per beast left for himself than he could obtain from the butchers. Production was benefited 25 per cent., and consumers saved 50 per cent. A fisherman in the Isle of Wight, depressed by the prices he could obtain from the fishmongers, determined upon selling direct to the inhabitants fish of his own catching, and in the kitchen of a mansion the following scene occurred:—The fishmonger presents himself and solicits orders. The cook disappears to ask her mistress if she wants anything. During her absence the fisherman, who has toiled all through the night, appears. The fishmonger, with angry face, thus accosts him : Hallo 1 what do you want here ? You have no business to sell your fish to my customers; you are not wanted here.” The fisherman quietly replies, “You wait and see.” The cook reappears, and, addressing the fishmonger, says, “No, thank you, ‘ Missis ’ does not want anything to-day; ” but on seeing the fisherman, she says, “Oh, you are here, are you? I think ‘Missis’ will see you.” She accordingly goes and tells her mistress. They speedily return together; the lady of the house, addressing the fisherman, says, “Good morning; what have you got this morning? ” “I have five very fine lobsters, freshly caught.” “What is the price?”. “One shilling and threepence each, ma’am, if you please.” “ I will take them all,” replies the lady; “the fishmongers charge me two shillings and sixpence each for similar-sized lobsters.” The fisherman departs, but finds the fishmonger awaiting him at the gate. �OPPRESSION OF FISHERMEN. 6$ The fishmonger attacks the fisherman thus : 11 If ever I find you selling to my customers again, I will ‘ boycott ’ you, and also put my fellow-fishmongers on to ‘boycott’ you.” The fishertaian replies, “ I am independent of you. I catch the fish. You starve me during the winter when visitors are few, and in summer you dictate the price you will give me. I have arranged to sell my own catchings here and in other towns. I can save the ladies one-half they pay you, and then get half as much again for myself as you will give me. ” Mackerel selling at 4s. per hundred—about a halfpenny each—at the auction sale at the seaport town are retailed in the inland towns at three for a shilling, or fourpence each. Surely a margin of 400 per cent, is more than enough to pay for cost of carriage and risk. Not long ago a beachman at a seaside resort, which was also a good fishing port, stated that he and his fellows had nearly given up fishing; they got so little for their labour. Except in stormy weather, when the risk was great and the fish supply more limited, the proceeds were so small as to make it not worth the trouble. It was only in stormy weather, at the risk of their lives, and probably the widowhood of their wives and orphanage of their children, that they could get a fair price sufficient to induce them to run the risk. The market-gardeners around London complain of the unremunerative prices they obtain for their produce ; yet the retail prices of vegetables are not less than 100 per cent higher than they can obtain from the wholesale salesman. In the .Daily News, April 3, 1885, there was an article, being one of a series on “ Workers and their Work.” It was the record of an interview with Mr. Clare Sewell Read, M.P., and gave the opinions of that able and experienced authority on the farming question., Mr. Read laments the wide difference between the prices the farmers receive and retail prices, and touches upon the distribution question. The following is an extract:— “ I have endeavoured to follow the times as well as I may �64. DISTRIBUTION REFORM. in what appears to me the only way of grappling with the difficulty of farming just now ■ that is, a great increase of stock, especially of sheep. I know there has been a fall in their value just recently, but they are the farmers’ best friends. They turn over his capital quickly. The majority of sheep, not killed as lambs, are killed from 13 months to a year and ahalf old—-the most at 15 months.” “ How is it that when mutton is down 2d. a pound at whole­ sale the consumer reaps no benefit from the fall ? Bread, also, does not seem to be as cheap as it should be in proportion with the price of wheat.” “ There is what has been called a 1tendency to permanence ’ in retail prices. It must be admitted at once that the con­ sumer can hardly expect the full benefit, according to figures, of any market reduction. The cost of collection and distribu­ tion, as Sir Rowland Hill pointed out concerning letters, remains the same, and the retailer or distributor is compelled to keep up the same establishments or staff whether the raw material is cheap or dear. In the case of bread the cost of grinding, bolting, making, baking, and distribution is absolutely permanent. Beer remains at a fixed price whatever the value of barley, malt, or hops may be. A barrel of beer seems to be a sort of unit of value. Milk, again, is an extremely difficult article to assess the value of. I am assured on good authority that the cost of distribution doubles that paid to the farmer. On an average a farmer gets sixpence or sevenpence a gallon for his milk—not more.” “ Why do not they make butter or cheese with it ? Both are very dear, especially good butter.” “ I do not think, when labour and time are considered, that they can do better than by selling their milk fresh. Cheese pays, perhaps, better than butter; but with only a limited experience I think I may safely say that for butter­ making purposes milk is barely worth sixpence a gallon. Common cheese, again, finds no market. Nobody now would touch that celebrated old Suffolk cheese made from skim-milk, �OPPRESSION OF FARMERS. 65 and which when cut in wedges was used to prop open doors and to serve as gate-pegs, and when Bloomfield’s farmer’s boy ate it he found it ‘ too big to swallow and too hard to bite.’ ” “ You think, then, that a farmer who can sell fresh milk should do so ? ” “ He seems to me to get rather more money, and to save time and labour.” “Touching the pig question—Since the falling off in the number of sheep there has been a great increase in that of pigs.’’ “ It is perfectly natural that it should be so. Several wet seasons in succession, and sheep dying of rot, brought the smaller farmers to an awkward pass. The little men were obliged to sell their sheep to meet their other losses, and then the problem arose—how were they to stock their farms the quickest and get some return at the smallest outlay. If the small farmer elected to restock with sheep, twenty ewes would cost him ^60, and produce him twenty-five or thirty lambs in a year. In the same space of time four sows would give him about eighty pigs, and the cost of the four sows would be only ^10. To a needy man this difference is very great.” “ How much would he get for his pigs ? ” “ That would depend upon circumstances. It is a saying that ‘ pigs are always all gold or all copper.’ The pig is a useful, animal upon a farm, and when other things went wrong he helped farmers round to a bit of ready money quickly, but the value of pigs fluctuates more than that of any other descrip­ tion of stock. The very rapid rate of production is an element of weakness in price. When prices go up production increases so enormously that the price of these prolific animals goes down rapidly. The pig breeder is generally a small man. In my part of the country there are usually three stages in the life of a pig. First, there is the small farmer who breeds him and who may sell him at any price from 5s. to 15s., the pigling being in both, cases of equal size, weight, breed, and beauty; secondly comes the big farmer who grows him in his stockyard ; and thirdly, the genuine pig feeder, who buys him from F �66 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. the big farmer, fattens him on the refuse from flour and starch mills, and sells him to the butcher or bacon factor. In the pig’s price there is again a gigantic difference between retail prices and those paid to the farmer, who can barely get 8s. or 9s- a score for bacon hogs, while bacon is worth at retail is. or is. 2d. per pound.” Mr. Read is very charitable to the distributors. If he would bring to bear on the question of distribution the practical and economising treatment he has so successfully applied to production, he would find that it is capable of yielding quite as great an economy and saving. In April, 1885, a struggle was being waged between capital and labour in the coal trade. The miners resisted a reduction of ten per cent, in wages, which the colliery proprietors said was necessary to leave them a profit on capital. At that time, best house coal was sold in London at 23s. to 25s. a ton. The cost at the pit’s mouth was 8s. to 9s., carriage to London and city dues average a cost of 8s. per ton. The coal merchant had, therefore, a gross profit of 7s. to 9s. a ton to cover the cost of distribution. The miners’ net wrages averaged nd. per ton. For the process of distribution the consumer pays as much as the natural value of the coal, miners’ wages, interest on capital, all included. The middleman’s profit of 7s. to 9s. a ton remains intact, the miners’ wages of nd. a ton are reduced. Which renders the most important service to the community? Who runs the greatest risk or suffers the most hardship, the miner or the middleman ? Take another case in the coal trade. In a certain part of the West Riding of Yorkshire, at the time I am writing the miners are on strike against a reduction in wages. They have been paid at the rate of 2s. for filling 36 corves, equal to about two tons of coal. They have to pay the wages of the boys, “ the hurriers,” who push the corves along, to find lamps and oil, and pay for their picks sharpening. In a week’s work of about 50 hours, the average net earnings of the miners, after paying the outgoings named, are about 18s. In the language of an able­ �OPPRESSION OF MINERS. 67 bodied and intelligent miner, if they have more than 20s. a week left for themselves, it is so unusual they think they have got something that does not belong to them. The net earnings of the men are at the rate of less than iod. per ton. Their proprietors from their own depot will not sell a ton of coals for less than 8s. 6d., the buyer has to pay for the “leading” or carriage. It may be urged that the proprietors have to provide against interest on their investment, for wear and tear, and risk, but it will be admitted that the miner out of his iod. a ton has also to provide against wear and tear and against risk. Out of his earnings he must provide against accident and a premature death. It may also be urged that the proprietor must provide against the exhaustion of the seam of coal, but so also must the miner provide against the exhaustion of himself, he must provide against the possibility of leaving his wife a widow and his children fatherless. If the seam of coal is the capitalist’s sheet anchor, so, too, the miner is the bread-winner for those dependent upon him. But to pass on to another branch of industry, the textile and kindred trades. On a piece of dress stuff for which the consumer pays 3s. per yard, the profit to the retailer is is. per yard; the weaver’s wages are but at the rate of i^d. per yard. For the process of distribution the consumer has to pay on a piece of such stuff a profit to the retailer greater in amount than has been distributed in wages to the whole of the operatives whose combined labour has made it an article of commerce. Not only more than has been paid to wool sorter, and comber, spinner, and weaver, and dyer, but also added to these the profit, at present minimum rate, of the capitalist manufacturer. But worse still. On many articles of dress the consumer pays more for the process of distribution than the whole cost of raw material, cost of transit, cost -of operatives’ wages, and manufacturer’s profit. The silk weaver at Lyons works seventy to eighty hours per week for 12^ francs (10s.), and produces a richly brocaded satin for furniture decoration. So keen is competition (or so F 2 �6<S /)/STR/IJUUOtX AViZ-W.l/. active is craftiness) the manufacturer sells it for 22s. a yard, and is refused even 23s. 6d, so fine are prices cut. The satin, an article of luxury, is charged to the consumer not 30s', nor 50s., but 60s. per yard, a profit of one hundred and fifty per cent. The weavers in Lyons are earning about is. 6d. a day for making expensive fabrics. No wonder they are frequently on the verge of a revolution, and form a hotbed for the propagation of the most revolutionary and anarchical remedies. The Lancashire cotton weaver produces a dress fabric, which is sold by the manufacturer to the wholesale distributor at 4.3^. per yard; the maker cannot get even 4^6^-, to say nothing of the more familiar division of a penny—an eighth, or one farthing, but is in fear that next time a competition takes place the thirty-second part of the penny must go, and the price be made even money. The wholesale distributor prints and finishes the fabric, adding to the cost one penny per yard, making the cost 5/^d.. The same article is sold retail at io|d., and in many cases is puffed as a “French print” ; the weaver is paid at the rate of three-farthings per yard for weaving; the cost of distribution is upwards of ¿d. per yard, 100 per cent, on cost, and seven times more than the weaver’s wages. The cotton trade is depressed, and judging from the reports in the Manchester newspapers, the lot of the spinner and manufacturer is an unenviable one ; the trade is unremunerative to the capitalist; any and every remedy but the right one is suggested; but they never think of turning their attention to distribution; there they would find ample room for reform. The following is an extract from a letter which appeared in the Manchester Courier a few weeks ago, and is interesting and also amusing as showing the feeling of the manufacturers:— “ It is admitted on all hands that something wants doing to improve the present depressed state of the cotton trade. Almost all I talk with say it is quite time united action was taken by the trade as a whole, and that if the Masters’ Asso­ ciation would only call a meeting, they would be well supported. �OPPRESSION OP TEXTILE MANUFACTURERS. 69 “ We are being harassed on all hands. What with the merchants on one hand, and the operatives on the other, we are continually in trouble. This we can alter by being united. It reminds me of a tale I once heard. A man gave his son a bundle of sticks to break, and the boy tried to break them all at once ; but his father said—‘ Stop, my son, you cannot do that ; you must break one at a time, and you will soon com­ plete your work ’ ; and so the boy finished his task quite easily. “ Well, are we not the bundle, and being broken one at a time by the merchants in prices and the operatives in indi­ vidual strikes ? Why can we not have the band of unity tied round us, so that neither merchant nor operative can break us ? It is our own fault, and the sooner we unite, and cease to live in a fool’s’ paradise, hoping for something to turn up, the better.” The distressed manufacturer seeks a remedy in a com­ bination against the power of the merchant on the one hand, and the combination of operatives on the other. Poor be­ nighted fellow, he never dreams of attacking the 50 to 100 per cent, margin that exists between the price he gets and the price the consumer pays the retailer. He goes for the reduction of the operatives’ wages, or for putting the merchant through a “ boycotting ” operation. I heard a large manufacturer say not long ago, the whole system of competition and distribution is a game of beggar my neighbour, the retailer plays to beggar the merchant and befool the consumer, the merchant plays his cards to beggar the manufacturer, and the manufacturer in turn plays to beggar the operative and the grower of the raw material. What a glorious condition, how mutual and how Christian ! The whole structure is based on mistrust and want of con­ fidence in one another, Manufacturers, when they were making their millions sterling, cried poverty and bad trade so as to keep down wages, the operatives were over-worked. “ Be­ tween 1802 and 1833 five Acts of Parliament were passed in favour of the labourers. Until the act of 1833, children �7° DISTRIBUTION REFORM. and young persons ‘were worked the whole night and the whole of the day ad libitum.'1”* This Act only prohibited the work of young persons (z.<?., from thirteen to eighteen) from exceeding twelve hours per day, and that of others fifteen hours. Even this legislative measure was nullified by inhuman employers, who succeeded in circumventing the law by a complicated system of relieving or shifting hands, moving about the labourers in the factory, so as to puzzle the inspectors and elude prosecution. At last, with the agitation of the Chartists and the repeal of the Corn Laws, came in what is known as the ten hours movement. After a preliminary Act for the protection of women and young persons was passed, the punctilious minutiae of which showed the difficulty of the law in coping with the slippery manipulation of the employers of labour, the ten hours’ labour day was fixed by Parliament, which came into operation in 1848, notwithstanding the opposition of the free trade advocates—Cobden and Bright. A powerful reaction followed after this, during which the employers dismissed many of their hands, and, with more or less success, tried to escape the consequences of this Act of Parliament, f . The history of the past eighty years warrants the operative in mistrusting the manufacturer. He cannot be blamed if now he mistrusts him, when possibly “competition” has run his (the manufacturer’s) profits to a minimum. The merchant mistrusts the manufacturer, for when circumstances favoured manufacturers, they made enormous profits and commanded them. The merchant paid the prices asked and was glad to do so, he had no alternative. Now so-called over-production and competition have turned the scales, the merchant dictates to the manufacturer. They mistrust each others’ representa­ tions as to fair prices and reasonable profits. Confidence and open and fair dealing can alone secure * See Report of Inspectors of Factories, 30th April, i860, p. 51. t See “Socialism." By the Rev. M. Kaufman, B.A. Founded on Dr. Schliffle’s work, “ Kapitalismus und Socialismus,” p. 171. �OPPRESSION OF SEAMSTRESSES. 71 prosperity to these warring interests. Society can only be benefited, by morality in industrial affairs, fédéralisation can alone make these clashing interests mutual and. harmonious. But to resume, and give further illustrations of the in­ equities in distribution. In the auxiliary trades, those of the dressmaker, the seam­ stress, the slop-maker, the same injustices in distribution exist. A common cotton shirt is sold by the retailer at 2 s. 3d to 2S. 6d. per shirt. This shirt is made of 3^ yards of cotton, costing 4|d. per yard; the making up is done by contract. The contractor cuts out the garments to the proper shapes and sizes, and puts them out to seamstresses or machinists to sew. The contractor finds the buttons, but the labourer finds needles and sewing thread, and provides herself with a sewing machine. The contractor, or organizer of this labour, receives 3s. per dozen, or 3d. per shirt for the whole work. Out of this he pays the seamstress is. çd. per dozen, or ifd. per shirt, for the making. A seamstress at this work, by working eighty hours, cannot make more than 10s. per week. The shirt thus costing is. 6d., is retailed at 2s. 3d. to 2s. 6d. The poor sewingmachine girl, whose labour goes to make it an article of value and exchange, is just kept from starvation—simply exist­ ing; her labour brings to the distributor 50 per cent. gain. For every penny paid in wages to every operative con­ tributing their labour to make the cloth, the buttons, the sew­ ing thread, and the shirt, the consumer is charged 3d. This is by no means an overdrawn case. Thousands of women and girls in London are working at starvation wages, making garments of one kind or another, not one of which gets into the hands of the public under 50 per cent, on cost of pro­ duction. On September 27th, 1884, the following extract was taken from the Daily Telegraph :— “ A distressing case of starvation was investigated by a coroner’s jury in Hackney, yesterday. It was shown by medical evidence that a widow, thirty-five years of age, who �72 DISTRIBUTION REBORN. worked as an upholstress, and earned only about 4s. a week, had starved herself, in order to provide food for her child.” The report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes says :—“ Sack-making and slop tailoring are two occupations carried on to a great extent in the homes of the poor, and they are both remunerated at starvation wages.” If the proposed Royal Commission on trade depression will follow up this question, I have no doubt it will find these starvation wages, like the exorbitant rents these poor beings have to. pay, leave a very handsome profit to the middleman employing them and selling their labour. We will now take an article of luxury, Buckingham lace. The making of this lace is done entirely by hand. The work is of a most skilled and dexterous kind. The worker has so many bobbins and pins to manipulate, she does as it were the work of a Jacquard engine and a loom with her hands. At this work, a good worker will make 4s. per week, and in that week will make one yard of lace of moderate width and good design. The only cost of production beyond the woman’s labour is the cost of the cotton thread or yarn. If we allow the manufacturer who supplies this thread and organizes the labour 3s. per yard for the cost of same and his profit, we have this Buckingham lace costing 7s. per yard to produce. What is it retailed at ? If you go to a West End shop to buy it, you are told how scarce it is, and how real lace is being put out of the market by the cheap power-loom lace; but there is yet something so rich and rare in real lace, although it is made by hand, and labour is scarce, they oblige their customers by keeping it. What we saw cost 7 s. per yard to produce is sold at from 15s. to 21s. per yard. The poor lacemaker works incessantly from morn to night for the starvation wage of 4s. per week. The lacemakers in Devonshire making 11 Honiton, Valen­ ciennes,” and other laces, are as miserably paid; their labour yields a good return to the dealers. A narrow lace, for which the maker is paid iod. per yard, is retailed at is. 9d. �OPPRESSION OF LACE-MAKERS. 73 Real lace making is a domestic industry, a remnant of the pre-machinery days. It is one of those industries that can be and is carried on in villages. Middlemen do not so much as in other trades stand between the producer and the consumer. The large retailers, from all parts of the country, go to Devon­ shire to buy. They go round to the cottages of the lace makeis and buy their small stocks. Yet the foregoing illustrations show how inequitable and one-sided is the division of the proceeds of their industry. The lace-maker, who is in most cases her own master, buying her own cotton-thread, selling her product direct to the retailer, is as much depressed and as miserably paid as the seamstress in a crowded town working for a iC master.’’ There is only one remedy, namely, a thoiough reform in the system of distribution and a moral standard and method of exchange. The marvellously cheap pocket-handkerchief is retailed at 3 id., leaving a profit on cost of production of seventy-five per cent., the poor woman making it, that is cutting and hemming it, is paid one penny per dozen, less than one-eighth of a penny each, scraping six shillings a week together by constant toil, just a little more than a pauper’s relief. A gentleman whom I know was recently interested in the transfer of a small property of the value of ^540. When the transfer was completed the lawyer’s bill was presented amount­ ing to ¿£15. A protest was made against what was deemed to be an exorbitant charge for the small amount of trouble the lawyer was put to, but the lawyer replied that he could have charged much more if he had claimed all the rules regulating such charges allowed. A charge of ^15 for the transfer of ^540 worth of property may seem excessive. I am by no means going to defend or justify lawyers’ charges, but what think ye of the cost of transferring ^540 of goods from the hands of the producer into the hands of consumers. What the lawyer did for £15 the various distributors will not do for less than ^180 to ^200, in other words, goods for which the producer receives £>3^® are sold to consumers at not �74 distribution reform. less than ^720. Such are the excessive charges for the transfer. Inequities in the distribution of the proceeds of industry are to be found m all trades and every calling. The large and elegant restaurants and hotels in London are remarkable for their grandeur. People wonder how they can pay. In many of them the profit on the labour of the waiters would yield a large revenue. In some establishments a charge of three­ pence each person is made for attendance, at table d’/ibte; a waiter is paid 12s. a week for his services from 5 p.m. to u.30 or 12 o’clock midnight. In this time he will serve an average of fifteen dinners. He has to make good all breakages and omissions. The proprietor thus receives from every fifteen patrons 3s. 9d. for attendance, out of which he gives the waiter 2s. An establishment having seventy waiters, and there are several employing such a number, will thus make 4 5 12s. 6d. per day profit out of the waiters’ labour; that wijl make ^33 15s. od. per week, or ^1,755 a year. Besides this, out of the deductions made for breakages it keeps up the stock of glass and china. The few gratuities the waiter receives, and these are not many when attendance is charged, are pretty well swallowed up in breakages and fees to servants in the kitchen. In other cases the waiter has to pay for the privilege of having a situation, and makes his income out of fees; as much as 30s. per week is given as a premium for a place. On ten waiters as much as ^780 per annum is cleared by the proprietor out. of waiters’ labour. It is calculated there are 4,000 waiters in London. All is not gold that glitters with them; they are hard worked, have to be at the beck and call of every one, to be polite when insulted, and submissive when bullied. 1 he profit made on their labour pays a great portion of the rental and expenses of large establishments. An amusing and interesting incident in the experience of a French waiter on his first coming to England was recently related to me by the waiter himself. Being desirous of learning �OPPRESSION OF WAITERS. 75 to speak English, he applied at a first-class cafe-restaurant in London for a situation. He asked to see the proprietor, and was favoured with an audience. The proprietor inquired the nature of the business about which he sought the interview. The waiter replied that he was anxious to secure a situation as waiter. In answer to further inquiries, he stated that he could speak French, German, and Italian, and had come over to England to perfect himself in English also. The proprietor replied that he thought he could give him a situation. /I’he waiter then asked what the wages would be. “ Wages ! exclaimed the proprietor, “ I pay no wages. You will have to give me 30s. a week for the place.” i£ What! shouted the waiter, “ me pay you ? No fear. In my country we get paid for working-; in this country the waiter must pay, must he, for the privilege of working ? Good day. That won’t do for me.” These illustrations of the injustice of our system of distribu­ tion may be carried on to an indefinite extent. I have given sufficient to prove my case, and I trust more than sufficient to enlist the sympathy and co-operation of all earnest readers in an effort of reform. �CHAPTER VIII. On the Difficulties that will be seen in the Way of any Attempt at Reform by the hard-headed Practical Man—The Evils of Distribution are of Modern Growth—A Glance at the Economic and Social Condition of English Village Life before the Industrial Revolution—In it there was no Waste in Distribution, no Middlemanism—Primitive Village Communities and “ Neutral Ground ” for Markets for the Exchange of Surplus Productions —The Need of making Distribution Neutral Ground to-day—The Co­ operative Movement, and its Failure in carrying out the Principles of True Co-operation—The Essentials of True Co-operation explained. Before passing on to the treatment of the measures for the reform of this deplorable condition of affairs, it will be oppor­ tune to notice here one or two questions and objections that have been and will again be urged. First of all there will be the objection of our candid, practi­ cal, and hard-headed friend, his objection may be summarized in the expression of his regret at the evils and injustices abounding, in a professed sympathy for all suffering, but the stumbling-block with him is how is it to be reformed. He will profess a belief in a higher life, and talk of the rights of man, but his severely practical turn of mind brings him to the question—how is it to be done. He asks to see the remedy explained, he half-heartedly professes a belief in co-operation, but cannot see how it is possible to make it work, the time for action with the severely practical man is rarely very opportune. Our candid and practical friend is so hard-headed, ideas do not easily enter his brain, profit and interest, the craftiness of com­ petition, the race for wealth, make his nature unimpressionable to other considerations, the higher life and the reforms and progress he professes to believe in he can scarcely think possible. The hard-headed practical man is, moreover, a professed believer in Christianity; he attends church or chapel on each �VESTED INTERESTS AND REFORM. 77 ^turning Sabbath; presumably, for his practical turn of .mind, and his assumed godly life, he is made an office-bearer in the church. When one comes to reason with this professing Christian, to dwell upon the glaring evils and outrages on Christian teaching that meet the observing eye at every turn, if one points out the misery and wretchedness, the hopelessness of thousands of labourers, and the sumptuous ease and luxury of their employers—if one should make mention of the golden rule, or call attention to Christ’s parables and exhortations and the lessons they teach, the hard-headed practical man, the professing Christian will boldly turn round and declare that the Christian religion is very nice in theory, beautiful for a life of seclusion, but is utterly inapplicable to every-day life, and can­ not be practised. Miserable hypocrite ! he will lecture what he calls the lower orders on the duties of the servant to the master ; he will recite to them what he thinks suitable of the beatitudes, but he never seeks to learn, nor learning, strives to fulfil his duty to his fellows, nor discharge his obligations to society. If there be any social evils which are crying for redress, the hard-headed practical man will coolly refer you to the State. The evils may be the outcome of personal greed and the grabbing and injustice of “private enterprise, but no matter—the hard-headed and practical class believe in no resti­ tution; vested interests, no matter on what injustice and iniquity they may have been vested, must be respected; local taxes must be relieved by the State; in fact, the State must do and relieve anything and everything, but the pocket of the hard­ headed, practical man must not part with a single fartning. What we as yet know of State Socialism, and what we may have to endure of future Socialistic legislation is, and will be, because an outraged public opinion demands the strong arm of the State to redress the wrongs and injustices brought about by the hard-headed, phlegmatic, selfish, so-called practical man of the world. I have heard of a clergyman in the Church of England who, n conviction, was a convert to disestablishment, but for many �7* DISTRIBUTION REFORM. years he held on to his living; when old age came on eventually he resigned his charge, and was free to give expression to his convictions , he was asked how it was he had not resigned and given up his. living sooner, he replied, “ I was blinded with ^400 a year in one eye, and ^400 a year prevented the sight of the other, I could not see it.” Our candid and practical friend is similarly blinded, so was the young man who went to Christ and asked what good thing he should do to have eternal life, had not he kept the commandments, and does not our candid friend also keep them according to his reading of them ? The real stumbling block of our candid friend, like the one that sent the young man away sorrowful, is that he has great possessions. It is to the hard-headed and practical man that we might recommend a study of Burke’s noble words “ If we make ourselves too little for the sphere of our duty, if, on the contrary, we do not stretch and expand our minds to the com­ pass of the object, be well assured that everything about us will dwindle by degrees until at length our concerns are shrunk to the dimensions of our minds. It is not a predilection to mean, sordid, home-bred cares that will avert the consequences of a false estimation of our interest or prevent the shameful dilapid­ ation into which a great Empire must fall by mean reparation upon mighty ruins.” Practical hardheadness in the race for wealth has well-nigh upset the coach , the race has certainly engrossed us so very much, our minds have made us too little for the sphere of our duty; here we are with an abundance of wealth and do not know how to find a use for it, and all the while thousands are in want and unable to have the opportunity of using the wealth and making it, like the earth whence it has come, reproduc­ tive ; practical hardheadness, without heart and a sense of man’s duty to his neighbour, has run its course; its salvation for the remnant of its days lies in helping on the reforms that shall distribute the wealth which may hereafter come of the employ­ ment of the wealth already created. �THE LAISSER FAIRE POLICY. 79 There is a large body of opinion represented by influential advocates professedly brimming with sympathy for the interests of the masses, and also professedly disciples of the religion proclaiming the rights of man. This section of the community are devotees of the laisser faire policy. They point out the vast growth of English industry and commerce, and give tables of assessed incomes and statistics of the growth of capital, and hold these up as a grand example of the triumph of indivi­ dualism and private enterprise. Now if, as they admit, there is much to be reformed, many injustices and much suffering to be removed, ere the lot of the masses can be considered satisfactory, how can this be done except by joint action ? The evils we deplore are the outcome of individualism and private enterprise. Whilst I am a believer in the “ laisser faire policy ” as regards legislative action, I am not a believer in it in industrial affairs. On the contrary, I am of opinion that the present condition can only be remedied by corporate or federal action, by laws and customs which shall be founded on truth and justice, and which shall be enforced by the moral sense of our duties one to another, and by a healthy public opinion, which happily in its collective expression is invariably on the side of right and truth. “ A free industry in a free state ” can and will be brought about and perfected without legislative interference. In fact, legislation would prevent its consummation. An objection which may also be anticipated is after the following order:— “ Yes,” some will say, “ the difference in price betwixt cost of production and consumers’ prices is no doubt great, but it cannot be done cheaper. There are great expenses in dis­ tribution. Look at the cost of rents, rates and taxes, interest on capital employed, cost of wages, and expenses of advertising, and the risk of loss by bad stock, and the evils of the credit system.” To such objections the sufficient answer is ready in turning to the achievements of existing co-operative distributive societies. The co-operative societies giving returns to the Central Co-operative Board, show a total amount of retail sales �8o DIS THIB UTION REFOR. \I. amounting to about ^25,000,000 per annum. * The cost of distribution is covered at from five to six per cent, on the turnover, including interest on capital, depreciation of stock, rent and taxes, wages, and all other expenses. The 50 to 100 per cent, profit consumers now pay is, therefore, a manifest tax on industry, a limitation of consumption, and hence of em­ ployment. Public opinion, founded on Christian morals and Mosaic teaching, has for ages condemned usury. To-day our judges do not spare the lender of money at usurious rates of interest in the cases that come before them; the money-lender who is known to advance money at 30, 40, or 50 per cent, interest puts himself outside the pale of respectable society, but a tradesman who makes 30, 40, or 50 per cent, gross profit on his sales or by the multiplicity of sales, and the number of times he turns over the capital employed, makes a nett profit on capital of 50 or 60 per cent., is considered a smart man, highly courted by society. If usury is an outrage upon morals, what must an excessive and depressing costliness of the process of distribution be ! They each form a ruinous and extortionate tax on labour; each depress honest and reproductive production and consumption. Economically they stand on precisely the same ground. I have already incidentally remarked that the cost of dis­ tribution has increased alongside a reduction in cost of produc­ tion. I have also referred to primitive society to show that distribution and production went together hand in hand. We may further enforce the contention that the evils of distribution are of very modern growth, by taking a glance at the economic social condition of English village life, as it existed within the memory of many now living. The village combined agricul­ tural with industrial occupation, the click of the loom was * The total amount of sales shown in the general summary for 1884 is „£31,053,628. This includes the sales of the productive societies and the whole­ sale society; they together amount to „£6,305,296. If we deduct them, we h ive a gross return of aiout ^25,000,000 retail sales. �MIDDLEMANISM A MODERN GROW TEL heard in the cottages; the farm-yard and the fields, the cottages and the allotment gardens made a delightful picture of rural life. The land was mainly freehold; the farmers were of the yeoman class, mostly owning the land they occupied, and not unfrequently combined the calling of a clothier or master manufacturer along with that of farming. The farmer’s wife, although born with a silver spoon, was industrious and thrifty, and considered it part of her duty to assist not only in the work of the house, but also in the management of affairs; with her own hand she would churn the butter, make the cheese, cure the bacon and ham, or bake the bread; her daughters would assist in spinning the yarn, or knitting the stockings ; from the cloths woven under their supervision they would, with the assistance of the village dressmaker, make their own dresses. They knew no middlemen, nor did they pay 50 to 100 per cent, on the cost of production. If you entered one of the cottages you would find the master of the house in the “ chamber ” sitting at the loom, busy throwing the shuttle, weaving the piece of cloth; his daughter would be sitting at the wheel spinning weft, and the good wife would be busy with her domestic duties. One son would be out working on the land for the farmer, another would be working on the weaver’s allotment. If you ask them how they get along, they will tell you they are quite contented; the father earns about 15s. a week by weaving, the daughters earn a little by spinning. But this is not their only source of providing the necessities of life : down in their little allotment plot they grow their own vegetables, and a little crop of oats, which they have ground into oatmeal for making their porridge ; they also keep a pig or two, and provide their own bacon and ham. A glorious time they have at the pig-killing feast; their neighbours are all welcome, and all partake of the good things of that festive time. They are on good terms with the master manufacturer—that is, the gentleman who gives them warp and weft to weave into cloth. He is also a large farmer; in the hay harvest and com harvest they have all a fine time in the G �82 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. fields, giving a hand to the cutting, the harvesting, and home­ carrying of the crops; they buy a sack of wheat from the farmer at the current market price of the raw produce, and send it down to the miller to grind and dress ; the corn-mill is driven by water power, or may be it is a windmill. The miller combines the agricultural with the milling enterprise, and is also a small farmer. The miller charges 6d. a bushel for grinding and dressing the wheat; his cart on its journey to the village delivers the flour, and the bran and sharps; the weaver thus obtains the flour, “ the staff of life,” simply at the market price—the cost of production plus the cost of milling, which averages only about 2s. per sack of wheat, or say less than 2d. per stone. The bran and the sharps help to feed the pigs; there is no waste, no middleman’s profit, no cost of dis­ tribution. The village handicraftsmen, the carpenter, the stone-mason, the blacksmith, the painter, the plumber, &c., supply themselves with the necessities of life in a similar way. Each has his bit of land, each may keep his pigs and poultry or a cow, all get their cloth direct from c< the maker ” or wheat from the grower, middlemanism and expensive distribution are unknown. The pedlar or the packman may come round occasionally ; they may buy a few trinkets or a bit of ribbon from the pedlar for the wife, to make her look fine on the Sunday, or from the pack­ man they may buy a pound of tea, which is used as a luxury on Sundays and holidays. But these are not necessities, they are their little luxuries. Their chief articles of food are pro­ duced from the land immediately surrounding them. Their means of subsistence and comfort are not to be computed by the amount of their earnings in money wages, but on the produce of their bit of land and the ease and cheapness with which they can obtain other necessities. One or other of the farmers would combine the trade of butcher, weekly he would kill the sheep and oxen sufficient for the small needs of the village. The cattle would be of his own rearing or bought from another of his neighbouring farmers; on �VILLAGE LIFE FORTY YEARS AGO. 83 Friday the barn doors would be thrown open, the villagers could examine the carcases hanging there and order the cut they would like, on the Saturday the whole would be cut up and distributed, if any pieces remained, there you would find them for sale laid on a beautifully-clean trestle. There was no shop, with its rent and expenses. The farmer was a butcher only two days a week, he worked his farm the rest of his time, and did not absolutely rely on the sale of meat for his liveli­ hood. In the supplying of meat there was no middleman, no extensive system of trafficking and exchange. When a villager wanted coals the following was the method of supplying the want. He would engage a farmer to send two horses and two carts to the colliery, may be some ten miles distant; on arrival there the teamster would wait his turn to be “ filled.” After having his carts filled with coal he would take them on to the weighing-machine, and there, on receiving the note indicating the net weight and the price of the coal, he would pay the amount out of the money with which he had been provided for that purpose. On his arrival back at the village he would deliver the coal and at the same time present the note. The villager would settle any differences between the amount indicated thereon, and the amount he had provided the teamster with, and besides this he would pay the usual charge for a day’s hire of the two horses and carts and man, amounting to about 6s. The villager thus obtained his coals direct from the colliery at the market price at the pit’s mouth. There was no middlemanism, no usury, no exchange, the price paid for leading for a journey of twenty miles there and back was little more than is charged to-day by the coal merchant forleading a couple of miles. The number of merchants and middlemen now existing in some branches of the coal trade it would be difficult to define. The surplus productions of the village were dealt with in the most economical way. The cloth was taken on market days by the master clothier to the market town, and there sold to merchants who exported or to any home buyer who wanted the g 2 �84 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. it or found a market for it. One part of the day the master clothier would be busy selling cloth, at another time he would be selling his surplus wheat or farm produce or buying a little wool to help out the insufficiency of the local growth. In all this there was the simplest economy. No agencies nor broker­ ages—the personal expenses and cost of the day’s marketing would altogether be less than the manufacturer of to-day spends on the bottle of wine he takes to dinner, to say nothing of the dinner itself, and a hundred other expenses attending the sale of his goods. In these good old days of village industry and mutual interchange of products honest work was considered sacred and ennobling; the lives of the villagers were too simple and natural for them to take any delight in mastering the craftiness and subtleties of distribution and exchange. In primitive times the village communities bought and sold their surplus productions on neutral ground. At several points where the “ frontiers ” of the villages converged there appear to have been spaces of what we should now call neutral ground. “ These were the markets. They were probably the only places at which the members of the different primitive groups met for any purpose except warfare, and the persons who came to them were doubtless at first persons specially empowered to exchange the produce and manufactures of one little village community for those of another.” * Under existing system the producer of to-day in the sale of his productions does not stand on neutral ground, he runs with open eyes into warlike terri­ tory, every man’s hand is against him and his hand is against every man ; there is no neutrality, no trustfulness, no true co­ operation. It will be by making neutral ground for the exchange and distribution of products that producer and con­ sumer will eventually have justice meted to them; it will be by making an active neutrality of exchange and distribution that social peace and progress will be established, and class feuds and strifes allayed. * Village Communities, p. 192. �THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION. 85 I believe in the progress of man ; present evils I reckon, but the storm that will clear the atmosphere and leave to­ morrow fresher and brighter than to-day. With Plato, I believe the soul is “ Unwillingly deprived of truth.” By education and lessons of a trying practical experience the people will ere long learn the truth of this trade depression and the inequities of the method and systems of distribution ; ere long the truth will be fearned of the economic changes brought about by the new Ifoethod of production and the displacement of the old, of the breaking down of national barriers in the interchange of com­ modities, and the opening up of vast new continents and islands, and the annihilation of time in communication and travel—once the truths of these changes are realised and fully appreciated, and society conforms to the application of the lessons these truths teach us, social progress and happiness will be as marvellous as have been the progress of physical science, the application of machinery to production, and the vast economies in the cost of production during the past eighty years. A paper prepared by a committee of the American Social Science Association, and read at its meeting at Cincinnati in 1878, gives a very vivid account of the displacement of labour by machinery. After giving a very graphic and minute descrip­ tion of domestic production, and comparing the same with the results of labour-saving appliances, the general effects are sum­ marised as follows :— “ 1. It has broken up and destroyed our whole system of agriculture as practised by our fathers, which required the whole time and attention of all the sons of the farm, and many from the towns, in never-ending duties of food production, and has driven them to towns and cities to hunt for employment, or remain in great part idle. “ 2. It has broken up and destroyed our whole system of household and family manufactures, as done by our mothers, when all took part in the labour and shared in the product, to the comfort of all ; and has compelled the daughters of our �86 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. country and towns to factory operations for ten to twelve hours a day in the manufacture of cloth they may not wear, though next to nakedness in the shivering blast ; or to the city to ply their needles for eighteen or twenty hours a day, in hunger and cold ; or to the streets in thousands, spinning yarns and weaving webs that become their shrouds. “3. It has broken up and destroyed our whole system of working in wood and iron and leather in small shops of one, two, or it may be half-a-dozen workmen, in every town, village, or hamlet in the country, with blacksmith shops in near neigh­ bourhood upon every road, where every man was a workman who could take the rough iron or unshaped wood and uncut leather and carry it through all its operations, until a thoroughly finished article was produced, and has compelled all to produc­ tion in large shops, where machinery has minutely divided all work, requiring only knowledge and strength enough to attend a machine that will heel shoes or cut nails, or card wool, or spin yarn, or do some other small fraction of a complete whole. “ 4. It has broken up and destroyed our whole system of individual and independent action in production and manufac­ ture, where any man who possessed a trade by his own hands could at once make that trade his support and means of ad­ vancement, free of control by any other man, and has com­ pelled all working men and women to a system of communal work, where, in hundreds and thousands, they are forced to labour with no other interest in the work than is granted to them in the wages paid for so much toil ; with no voice, no right, no interest in the product of their hands and brains, but subject to the uncontrolled interest and caprice of those who, too often, know no other motive than that of avarice. “ 5. It has so enormously developed the power of produc­ tion as to far outstrip man’s utmost power of consumption, enabling less than one-half of the producing and working classes, working ten hours a day, to produce vastly more than a market can be found for ; filling our granaries, warehouses, depots, and stores with enormous amounts of products of every �THE PROBLEM TO BE SOLVED. 8/ description, for which there is no sale, though never before offered at such low prices—with multitudes of men and women in the greatest want—being without food, clothing, shelter— without work, and consequently without means to obtain the Simplest necessaries of life. “ 6. It has thrown out of employment substantially one-half of the working classes ; in fact, it has utterly destroyed all regular or constant employment for any considerable class in any industry, and is constantly and steadily displacing able and willing men, and filling their places with women and children, leaving no place to be filled by, and no demand for, the con­ stantly increasing numbers developed in our increase of popu­ lation, in this way adding to the number of the unemployed. It takes married women in thousands from their maternal cares and duties, and children but little more than infants from the schools, putting them to the care of machinery and its work, until quite one-third of the machine tenders in our country are women and children; thus breaking down the mothers, slaughtering the infants, and giving employment to any who obtain it only upon such conditions of uncertainty, insecurity, competition with the workless, and steady reduction in wages, as create a constant struggle to obtain the little work they do have, and get such compensation for it as will barely support life even when in health. “ These points show clearly the changes which have taken place in all our industries within a period of little more than half a century—changes greater than the world has before known during its whole existence.” This is a picture of the effects and changes wrought by machinery that may be called the dark side; but there is a bright side. The mastery of science, and the inventiveness of which the introduction of labour-saving machinery is proof, is but the further fulfilment of man’s mission, given to him in the Divine command to have dominion over the earth and to subdue it. The problem we have to solve—and here comes the application of social and economic science and morality—■ �88 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. is, How can these great economies in production be made to minister to man’s happiness and real progress ? In the estima­ tion of the earlier economists increased production was neces­ sary as an instrument of social progress. We have now attained that increased production; the problem is the distribu­ tion of the undoubted means to happiness and progress that it makes possible. The remedy lies in the establishment of a moral system of exchange, that shall give to the present pro­ ducer, although he may only tend a loom or a threshingmachine, as fair a share of the proceeds of his labour and his increased productiveness as his predecessor, the domestic pro­ ducer, obtained in the more primitive days. The question has been asked, is not the co-operative movement doing much to mitigate the evils of which you complain ? The only reply I can make is that in England, after fifty years of talking and preaching, we have not yet seen a solid and earnest effort made -to demonstrate and prove the blessings that will yet come from true co-operation. The praises of co-operation have been sung since the days of Robert Owen, by all the professors of political economy, by social reformers of all shades of opinion; statesmen and Parliamentary candidates and politicians have, for the sake of standing well with the working classes, extolled the benefits of co-operation and association ; but, notwithstanding all this, the question has not been seriously and earnestly taken in hand. No doubt a cause of this has been the ease with which money has been made in private enterprise during the past forty years; the race for wealth has made us indifferent to the higher duties and purposes of life ; the motto has been “ Own self first, and the devil take the hindmost.” Now the results of such a selfish policy are being seen we are by degrees opening our eyes to perceive that- the condition of the hindmost has some­ how a great influence on the well-being of oneself. The hap­ piness of the individual may be estimated by looking at the numbers and the social and economic condition of the masses. �THE CO-OPERATIVE MOVEMENT. 89 Co-operative distribution has done something to mitigate the evils of distribution—it has divided amongst its members the easily earned profits made in retail trading, and has demonstrated the advantages and success to be gained by association ; just as we are thankful to free trade for the partial good it has done and the improvement it made on the pre-existing condition of affairs, so are we thankful to co­ operative distribution for the partial good it has done. Both the free trade movement and the co-operative move­ ment have partially laid hold of great and noble principles; each only require fully applying for the good of the whole community. A principle in each of them is that they know no class interests. The individual who seeks for wealth and honour, and happiness, must find them in the services he has rendered his fellows and the benefits he has conferred on the community. The co-operative movement may be described as consisting of 1,284 joint stock limited companies of 764,000 members, engaged in trading for their mutual benefit and gain. * The share capital is about £8,328,720, and loan capital £1,690,520. On this capital they make a net profit of £2,735,170, equal to 27I per cent, (these figures include the capital employed and the profits made in the so-called co-operative productive societies. These show worse results in profit making than the retail distributive societies ; if the profits were taken on capital employed in distribution only they would show about 32 per cent.) In the returns of the Manchester District Co-operativg Association, which in 1883 had sales amounting to £1,264,773 and net profits .£150,299, the disposal of the profits is par­ * The societies recognised by the Central Co-operative Board are alone worthy of being included in the co-operative movement. The Civil Service Stores prosper on the very worst evils of middlemanism. If all the goods for home consumption were distributed on the principles on which they are worked we should have producers beggared, until at last it would not be worth while producing anything at all. The Civil Service Stores sacrifice the rights of producers for the benefit of their shareholders and their members. There is no mutuality of interests, no morality in exchange. �ço DISTRIBUTION REFORM. ticularised. The sum of >£"143,960 was distributed as members’ dividend and only £’1,004 in non-members’ dividend, £"2,287 was placed to the educational fund, which is a very pleasant and unobtrusive system of advertising; £1,645 was placed to reserve fund, and other sundry items, amounting to >£1,433, were employed in additional depreciation, etc. etc. I find no participation in profits by the storemen nor assistants in the stores, nor do I find any participation in profits by producers. The Manchester District Co-operative Association may be taken as a sample of the working of the whole of the Co­ operative Stores. It is no unfairness to say that there is a want of evidence that it is actuated by the principles of true co-operation in the working of it.’" The wholesale co-operative society is a gigantic concern, established to supply the smaller retail distributive societies. Its share capital is subscribed by the distributive societies. It has a turnover of >£4,675,371, and is the proprietor of four productive societies, doing a business of >£162,149 in 1884, and making a net profit thereon of >£5,675, but it does not divide a single farthing of these profits amongst its workers. It is a sham to represent these societies as co-operative. The Co-operative Wholesale Society is a gigantic middleman ; in its workshops it pays the lowest of competition wages ; in the language of one of the workers in one of the shoe factories, “ the workmen have to work for what they can get, they know there is no true co-operation.” In its transactions with other * Further evidence of the fact that this so-called co-operation is no benefit to producers is found in an analysis of the sales of the Afanchester District Co-operative Association. Encouragement of home productions seems to have no concern for these co-operative societies ; one would think that in working men's co-operative societies the promotion of home industries would be the first duty. Out of total sales of ¿1,264,773 in 1883, only ¿9,195 was in farm and dairy produce, ¿58,199 in drapery, ¿7,553 in tailoring, and ¿733 in furnish­ ing ; these are very small sums proportionately to the gross turn over; they are branches of trade in which home industry could be encouraged. Butchering is credited with ¿129,134, grocery with ¿1,014,691; in these branches of trade the interests of home producers and home workers were no more studied than in any non-co-operative trading establishment. �THE SINS OF CO-OPERATORS. QI producers it pays the lowest of competition prices; the profits made out of the retail prices are distributed amongst the members, labour is depressed. In short, it is as far from dis­ playing a single feature of real co-operation as any private trader is who uses the weapons of competition and capitalism for his personal ends, regardless of the interests of others. The Co-operative Labour Association, whose principal object is to recognise the combined interests of capital and labour, and advocate the introduction of co-partnerships of labour in productive enterprise, is largely composed of members of the co-operative movement. In a conference just held, a resolution was passed asking “ the committee of the Labour Association to point out in a fraternal spirit to the Wholesale Co-operative Society the grave injury they are doing to the cause of co-operation by their failure to carry out co-operative principles in their productive works, and to offer their services in discussing practical means of placing the wholesale woikshops upon a true co-operative basis.” The members of the co-operative movement are therefore not satisfied with the evasion of true co-operative principles their societies are showing. But not only is the Wholesale Society doing a grave injury to the cause of co-operation; the distributive societies them­ selves fail to fulfil the first condition of true co-operation. An industrial community is made up of producers and consumers. The first necessity of a man’s existence—especially of a work­ ing man—is that he must produce something to live. In these days of divisions of labour and concentration a workman does not live on the article or part of an article he produces, he lives on the exchangeable value of the wages he receives. These wages are supposed to represent the money value of the labour he has contributed. Distribution here comes in j its business is to supply the wants of consumers and find a market for the productions of producers. A workman may be engaged in making shoes at Leicester ; by the aid of machinery and minute divisions of labour four workmen may produce, �92 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. say, 1,000 pairs of shoes a year. Out of their wages, con­ sidering they have other things to provide besides shoes, they can only buy, say, two pairs each per year; there are, there­ fore, 992 pairs of shoes to be distributed. A market will be found for some in London, for others in Bristol, and others, say, in Leeds. Workmen are engaged in making woollen cloth at Leeds, just in the same way as the boot and shoe makers are at Leicester. They can buy a few pairs of shoes, but must first exchange the cloth they have put their labour into. In exchange for cloth the boot and shoe makers at Leicester willingly supply the boots and shoes. In like manner the farmer and agricultural labourer produce vastly more than they can consume ; they exchange their surplus productions for other necessaries of life. They take boots from the boot maker, cloth from the cloth manufacturer, hats from the hat maker, furniture from the upholsterer, and all these take the productions of the farm in exchange for their manufactures. It is therefore the function of distribution to be the medium of exchange between producers and consumers ; it takes from one producer that which he has made but does not need for his own consumption; and gives him back that which he requires, the same having been made by some other producer which he could not use ; unless this distribution is economised and organised, and made mutual for the benefit of producers_ who are also the consumers—it is evident that it will become nothing less than usury; now my contention is that just because this most important function of distribution has not been performed for the mutual benefit of producers and con­ sumers, but on the contrary has been performed for the selfish interests of distributors, whose interests are alien to those of the classes they profess to serve—for this they must be when, as I have shown, the producer is depressed and the consumer extorted—I say my contention is that distribution has become a system of usury, detrimental to the well-being of the country. The duty of co-operation is to make distribution mutual, and remove from it the stigma of usury. The first condition of �PRINCIPLES OF TRUE CO-OPERATION. 93 true co-operation is therefore that the producer should not be unduly depressed, but should receive value for value, measure for measure, in the exchange of his labour. Co-operative distribution has only grasped half the principle of true co­ operation ■ in buying goods the stores support middlemanism | they do not buy first hand, and do not in any way seek to restore labour to its rightful position in productive enterprise. After the payment of capital employed in distribution and all other legitimate expenses necessary for the discharge of the function of distribution, half the surplus profits are as much the right of the producer as they are of the consumer, but this co-operation takes the whole of the profits for its members. It can be on no other footing than that which I have laid down, that production can be honestly and fairly treated, and the interests of producer and consumer made mutual. Until this principle is recognised and acted upon, until distribution is made a moral and equitable system of exchange, freed from the taint of usury, it will be futile to expect that labour partnerships can be founded, or associations of capital and labour successfully established in productive enterprise ; the profits more easily made in retail distribution cannot be separated and treated of themselves ; they must be joined to those of production before true co-operation can exist, or ever the rights of labour can be recognised or justly dealt with. In subsequent chapters on the treatment of the remedy for existing evils, I hope to be able to show how distribution may be made mutual and true co-operation established. I have had the pleasure of discussing this question with Mr. Lloyd Jones and Mr. Thomas Hughes, each of them veterans in the co-operative movement. I but give expression to their convictions and sentiments when I say that they look upon existing systems of co-operation as but a stepping stone to the good that will yet come when co-operation in production and distribution are joined together ; by no other plan can the pro­ ducer be made partaker in his fair share of the proceeds of his labour, for the market price is what the consumer pays, the �94 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. pioducer can only benefit in his share of the proceeds by having distribution in its every form made subversive to, and a helpmeet of, production. I had the privilege of being present at the Co-operative Congress at Oldham when the report of the committee ap­ pointed to make inquiry into the state of co-operative produc­ tion was considered. The committee did not make a very encouraging report as to the probabilities of success for new ventures in productive co-operation. The storm of indignation and disappioval which this report aroused was good evidence that the delegates to the Congress did not approve of it. Mr. Hughes asked if the time was not now ripe for dealing with the application of their principles to production, when would it be ripe ? He went so far as to say that unless this question of applying the principles of co-operation to labour was seriously taken up and dealt with ere another year passed he would be ashamed of them. Speaker after speaker expressed similar views, the opinion seemed to be prevalent that success in dis­ tribution, the dividing of the easily-earned profits of retail trading, which are abnormal, was no remedy for the labour question. Besides, the co-operative movement and Civil Service Stores are not, it may be asked, manufacturers themselves, economising distribution by selling their productions, if not direct to the consumer at any rate appealing direct to the con­ sumers, and supplying their articles at fixed prices through the retailers; is there not an economy and a protection to the consumer in this ? Household requisites and also articles of dress, whether sold direct by the maker or through retailers, which are largely advertised, and which rely on continued expenditure in advertising for a sale, are the dearest articles of all; the consumer pays for all the cost of puffing and advertising, and therefore pays a partially self-imposed tax on his own consumption. In our large towns stores are now seen with placards on the windows announcing that they supply clothing direct from �ON GULLING THE PUBLIC. 95 the factory to the consumer, saving the consumer 25 to 50 per cent. ; it is at once an evidence of the wide margin of profits already existing, and also of their belief in the credulity of the public when such an announcement is made. These stores have no factory; they sometimes buy their cloth from manufacturers and cut up a few garments and put them out to tailors to sew, and sweat down the wages of those tailors to starvation point; much more frequently they buy from slop makers, and shirt makers, and hatters ; in every sense of the term they are middlemen of the worst type, making a business on what they call the “gullibility of the British public.” In several manufacturing centres there are now firms doing a large business, solely by advertising; the hit they make on the public mind is that they represent themselves as manufacturers selling direct from the mill or manufacturer to the consumer; these also are middlemen of the worst kind, for they delibe­ rately make false representations. They have neither loom nor spindle. Instead of the public making a saving by buying from them they pay as much if not more than customary retail prices, some of these concerns professing to save the consumer 50 per cent., make a minimum profit of 50 per cent, on cost of production—every yard of stuff they sell is taxed 10 per cent, for advertising alone. The economy of distribution is to be found in collectivism and not individualism; if every manufacturer in the country sold his goods direct to the consumer middlenianism would not be got rid of, for the manufacturer would be a middleman all the same; he would stand between the producers, the workers, and the consumers; the one would be depressed and the other extorted, then just as now the public would have no guarantee either of economy or of equity. Emerson says the disease with which the human mind now labours is want of faith. “ Some men do not believe in a power of education; they do not think we can speak to divine sentiments in man, and do not try. All high aims are re­ nounced. We believe that the defects of so many perverse �96 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. and so many frivolous people who make up society are organic, and society is a hospital for incurables.” Like Emerson, I do not believe in this infidelity and faithlessness ; with Emerson, I agree that “ life must be lived on a higher plane. We must go up to a higher platform, to which we are always invited to ascend; there the whole aspect of things changes.” It is because I believe in the attainment of this higher plane of existence I am writing these pages. “ Happiness,” says Aristotle, “ is one of those things which are honourable for their own sakes, and are complete and perfect in themselves. Among other reasons, it seems to me to hold this supreme rank from the fact of its being an ultimate principle. It is for the sake of happiness that we perform all the actions of our lives ; and that which is an ultimate principle and the cause of what is good we rank as something honourable and divine.” * It is with a humble desire to promote happiness by the morality of our actions in industrial life, in buying and selling and getting gain, that I ask attention to a treatment of the remedy in subsequent pages. * “Aristotle’s Moral Philosophy,” by Hatch, p. 57. �CHAPTER IX. The Remedy—The Establishment of Associations for Distribution of Agricul­ tural and Industrial Products for Mutual Benefit of Producers and Con­ sumers—The Organization of Associations for Mutual Distribution of Agricultural Produce and Food—The Organization of Associations for Mutual Distribution of Manufactures, Articles of Dress and Clothing, Furniture, &c.—The Machinery and Working of the same Explained. And now to a consideration of the remedy. In a cursory way, in previous pages, we have roughly dealt with the social problem. We have seen what wealth is, and what are the factors in its creation; we have admitted its uses and con­ demned its abuses; we have seen primitive society was constituted on the basis of kinship and co-operative action, and that modern industrial society is writhing in the agonies of individual competition and personal gain. Throughout these pages we have striven to let it be evident that the spirit actuating the writing of them is one of veneration and reverence of the All-wise One, and an acknowledgment that all happiness can alone come of our obedience to the natural law, if by the aid of revealed and natural religion we will only strive to learn what that law is, and live in accordance with its teaching, “ then shall the light rise in obscurity and the darkness be as the noon-day.” “ Good and bad results cannot be accidental, but must be necessary consequences of the constitution of things, and it is the business of moral science to deduce from the laws of life and the conditions of existence what kinds of actions neces­ sarily tend to produce happiness and what kinds to produce unhappiness.” * In the work on Socialism by the Rev. Mr. Kaufman, founded on the German work of Dr. A. E. F. Schaffle, which I have previously quoted, the concluding paragraph on p. 315 gives ' 11 Data of Ethics,” Mr. Herbert Spencer. H �98 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. expression to sentiments which all earnest and thinking men must reciprocate, and pray for their attainment in actual life. It says : “ Without uprooting any existing social institutions, without precipitating the introduction of any additional forms of economy, we may look forward to the time when the further spread of knowledge and human culture, social peace shall at last have been concluded, when the now contending classes shall have learned the true nature of their common interests, and the mutual inter-dependence between honest labour and property honestly acquired. Without any destructive measures a system may be gradually constructed of a free industry in a free state, both endued with a new spirit of liberality, general culture, co-operative discipline, sound morality, and unfeigned brotherly love.” The summary of principles laid down by the Society for Promoting Working Men’s Associations, of which the late Rev. F. D. Maurice was president, were :—1. That human society is a brotherhood, not a collection of warring atoms. 2. That true workers should be fellow-workers, not rivals. 3. That a principle of justice, and not selfishness, should regulate exchanges. It is on the ethical truth of Mr. Herbert Spencer, the noble aspirations of Kaufman and Schaffle, and the Christian principles of the Society for Promoting Working Men’s Associa­ tions, the measures of reform I am about to explain are founded. Of the many laws given to the children of Israel by Moses fortheir social guidance, one commanded “that they should do no unrighteousness in judgment, in meteyard, in weight, or in measure. Just balances, just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin shall ye have.” Here we have laid down a high moral standard of exchange. It is by the establishment of a higher moral standard of exchange than is possible under existing free and individual competition that the corner-stone of a remedial measure will be laid. I therefore recommend agency associations for the retail �THE REMEDY EXPLAINED. 99 distribution of the products of kindred trades, it being a principle and condition of their foundation that they be established as an aid to production on the one hand and a protection to the consumer on the other. These Co-operative Associations or Agencies would per­ form the twofold function for the mutual benefit of producers and consumers in the following manner:— I. The share capital would be raised on the joint stock principle, with limited liability, in shares of sufficiently small amount to place them within the means of purchase by the industrial classes. II. The management would be vested in a sufficiency but not a superfluity of directors—a managing director and a secretary. Their election and re-election being of course vested in the hands of the shareholders. III. The shareholders shall have a first claim on net profits to such an amount as shall pay up to but not beyond five per cent, per annum on the paid up capital—the said five per cent, per annum being considered and accepted as a fair and just return for the usury of the capital employed in these associa­ tions, these agencies of distribution. (A.) Surplus profits shall be distributed as follows :—A bonus or share in surplus profits shall be given to the managers and every assistant employed by the associations, the propor­ tionate amount of such bonus or share in profits to be decided upon and fixed by the directorates, the amount, of course, being entirely dependent on the successful working of the various departments in the various associations. (B.) The remaining profits shall be distributed, half to pro­ ducers or manufacturers in proportion to purchases made by the associations from them, and half to consumers or purchasers in proportion to the amount of their purchases from the associations. These associations would be of two kinds. First, the distri­ butors of agricultural produce and food, and secondly, the distributors of industrial produce, manufactured articles, of dress, clothing and furniture. H 2 �IOO DISTRIBUTION REFORM. The mode of operation of each would be similar in principle. We will first treat the agricultural one. Suitable premises would be taken in London or some other large centre of population, these would be constituted the chief store and head office for the general management of the business of the association. Branch stores would be estab­ lished in other towns and villages as may from time to time seem expedient. Arrangements would be entered into with farmers, millers, market gardeners, poultry keepers, dairy farmers, fishermen, fruit growers, and all similar producers, for the supply of corn, flour, vegetables, fruit, fish, poultry, eggs, milk and cattle. The association would be a general dealer in agricultural produce and butchers’ meat. It would take the live cattle from the farmers and organise its own slaughtering and dressing establishments. The association would pay in cash the market price of the day; at the end of the half year the profits would be dealt with as described, the farmer, the market gardener, the fisherman, each and all would receive hisshare in the profits. Supposing a farmer had supplied thirty head of cattle, for which he had been paid say ^450, if the surplus profits, after paying all expenses and the fixed five per cent, on capital, amounted to ten per cent, on the turnover, as doubtless they would do if customary retail prices were charged, the farmer would secure as his share of the profits £22 10s. * No doubt the association would in time find it within its province and a great economy to organise its own mills for grinding and dressing corn and making it into flour. Suppose a farmer had supplied five hundred quarters of wheat at 35 s. a * I am warranted in calculating the surplus profits, after the payment of all expenses, at 10 per cent, on turnover, by the results of the working of the Co-operative Societies. On retail sales amounting to ^25,000,000 a net profit of ^2,610,130 is shown, after all expenses and interest on capital have been provided for. This is a little over 10 per cent, on gross sales. Co-operative Societies do not buy everything at first cost-; they also claim to sell at less than the usual retail prices. The associations I describe will buy everything at cost of production. If customary retail prices were charged the net profits would exceed 10 per cent, on turnover. �THE WORKING OF THE REMEDY. IO I quarter, amounting to ^875, and if as before described, the profits for distribution amounted to 10 per cent, on the turn­ over, the farmer supplying these five hundred quarters of wheat •Would receive as his share five per cent, on the amount, viz., ^43 15s., equal to an addition of is. 9b. per quarter. The fisherman supplying fish would receive the price of the day and at the end of the half year would, if profits were as I have indicated, receive a return of five per cent, on the amount supplied. So all through, every producer would have fair measure meted out to him in distribution, and would participate in the price of the market. In so far as farmers and fishermen were purchasers for their consumptive wants, they would also receive back 5 per cent, on the amount of their purchases, and would thereby be benefited not only as producers but as con­ sumers also. With large quantities of agricultural produce, the first stage is now the consignment of the same by the grower or breeder to the wholesale salesman. The producer has to be satisfied with whatever the salesman chooses to fix as the market price. The producer knows and feels that he is depressed and un­ fairly dealt with; but the consignments to the agency of asso­ ciation I describe would be treated fairly. Instead of sending his produce into a ring of monopolists, the producer would be forwarding it to a mutual agency, and receive a return propor­ tionate to the prices realised from consumers. The scandalous outrages which are described in the article from the Field, which I have previously quoted, would be impossible. Every transaction would be fair and aboveboard; an inducement would be given to greater cultivation of the land and agricul­ tural productions generally ; the consumer would be shielded from extortion; interests now supposed to be antagonistic would become thoroughly mutual. The following is a table of some articles of food imported into this country in 1883, and the declared value of the same, all of which we can produce at home. I do not say we could produce all this vast amount, but we might �102 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. greatly increase our production, and reduce the amount imported :— Butter and Butterine ............... ¿”,773,933 Cheese .............. 4,890,400 Eggs...................................... ............... 2,732,055 Potatoes .............. 1,585,260 Fish....................................... ............... 2,301,966 Animals : Oxen, Bulls, Cows, and Calves 9,332,242 Sheep and Lambs ... ............... 2,518,382 Beef ... .............. 2,894,397 Bacon and Ham ............... 10,036,326 Pork...................................... .............. 761,871 Lard ... ............... 2,247,016 Corn: Wheat .............. 31,454,481 ,, Barley .............. 5,74L795 „ Oats ... .............. 5,010,293 ,, Maize... .............. 10,370,074 „ Other kinds ... ............... 2,207,397 ,, Flour—Of Wheat ... ............... 12,344,778 ,, „ Other kinds .............. 493,549 ¿118,695,215 No doubt a first step in the way of obtaining a greater pro­ duction from the land of this country is the reform of the land laws, to which reference has already been made. It is an outrage on common sense, that whilst we are receiving these enormous imports of agricultural produce there are thou­ sands of acres of land going to waste, thousands of labourers on the verge of starvation with the waste lands before their eyes, all because the inhuman land laws prevent its free dis­ tribution, and hinder the working of the natural law of rents, occupancy, and the labouring of the soil. Evidence of what might be accomplished in greater pro­ ductiveness of the soil is to be found on Lord Carrington’s estate in Buckinghamshire. His lordship has recently stated that his 800 allotment tenants get a net produce from the land of ^40 an acre. The most a farmer, farming the same land on the great culture plan, can obtain is 7? 7 an acre. Production �LITTLE CULTURE VERSUS GREAT CULTURE. IC>3 on a large scale may be best in manufactures, but in the culti­ vation of the land little culture obtains a greater yield than great culture. The Rev. Mr. Stubbs supports this view. On his allotments at Granborough the land cultivated by labourers as allotments produced 60 per cent, more wheat than the far­ mers’ average, and 11 per cent, more than the average of the highest scientific farming. In his evidence before the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes Mr. Stubbs repeated the statement he had previously made, that 40 bushels of corn to the acre is a very common allotment crop—the farmer usually places his average at 25 bushels. The labourer puts more labour into his allotment than the farmer does into his land, and produces 40 bushels while the farmer is getting only 25 or 26 bushels. Further evidence of the in­ creased productiveness of the land if ownership was more widely distributed, and cultivation cut up into smaller plots, is to be seen in the results of the cultivation of the railway em­ bankments and bits of odd plots alongside our railways. The employe's of the railway companies, having the privilege of cultivating for their own benefit these bits of what would other­ wise be waste land, obtain an astonishing amount of production therefrom. N ext in importance to a reform in the land laws is a reform in the distribution of the products of the land. Such an asso­ ciation for distribution as I have described will—granted the natural law of rents were allowed to prevail—do much to encourage the yeoman and the peasant proprietor back to the soil from which he has been driven away by monopoly and demi-godism, which are alike an insult to Nature, to humanity, and to God. The schemes for establishing peasant proprietorships and small farms’ associations, industrial villages, and so forth, will surely be unsuccessful unless accompanied by some method for the economic and moral distribution of the products, for without this the peasant proprietors and the small producers it is proposed to attract to the industrial villages will simply be �104 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. fleeced by middlemen. I noticed not long ago a speech made by an influential Member of Parliament, at a meeting called for promoting the establishment of an industrial village, in which it was i emarked that the wholesale houses would take the productions of the women in articles of dress, and would no doubt give out work for them to do; but in the wholesale houses or any other you will find no philanthropy, only iron­ heeled competition. In the lace trades in Buckinghamshire, Devonshire, and the underclothing trades in Ireland, where they are carried on in the villages, you find the women making 4s. to 5s. a week. They are depressed by the dealers, who make enormous profits out of their labour. The handloom hosieiy manufacturers in the villages in Leicestershire and Nottinghamshire earn about 8s. per week, and produce work that leaves a margin between the cost of production and the price consumers pay of fully 75 per cent. The labourers in the village, whether it be in the labour of the field, in growing vegetables, or rearing stock, or poultry farming, or in making stockings, shirts, or lace, under existing systems of distribution and competition, will be screwed down and depressed below the minimum of a fair living and a fair share of the proceeds of their labour. By the establishment of associations for distribution, such as I am endeavouring to describe, industrial villages might flourish and be encouraged, their products, whether of the field or the cottage, would be sure of a market and a fair price. Together with the distribution of agricultural produce would be associated the distribution of coals and the hundreds of odd things required in the household. Sugar—and here the English refiner would receive a bounty, not from the State, but simply from morality in exchange—then there would be such articles as jams, pickles, vinegar, mustard, blacking, and blacklead, brooms, and coal-scuttles, and so on throughout the almost endless list of household requisites, all producers in every case participating in the distribution of surplus profits. It might also be found advantageous to associate the distribution �FURTHER EXPLANATION OF THE REM.EDY. 10$ of colonial and Indian produce, the same principles of dis­ tribution of surplus profits being made applicable. By degrees, as experience showed the way, you might have a grand federa­ tion of English and colonial producers and consumers bound together by the grandest of all ties—the bond of mutual in­ terestedness and helpfulness, of justice and equity. The association for distribution of agricultural and kin­ dred produce would be its own Smithfield, its own Covent Garden, and its own Billingsgate, and, if thought desirable, its own Mincing Lane also. It would put itself outside the power of these monopolies and the “ rings ” existing therein, and would place both producer and consumer in a free market. As regards the constitution and mode of operations of the Industrial Associations for Distributing Manufactures, they would be as follows The chief store and head offices for the general management of the business of the Association would be established in London. Distributive stores would also be established in the provincial centres of population as may from time to time seem expedient. In order to secure the most efficient and direct communi­ cation with producers in our principal manufacturing districts, resident representatives or buyers, having thorough technical knowledge and local experience, would be appointed, and suit­ able premises taken in such productive centres as Manchester, Bradford, Glasgow, Nottingham, &c. &c. The duties of such resident representatives to be as follows :—They would be in constant communication as to the productions of their districts with the managers of departments at the chief store and the various branches, and would, on the instructions of such managers, purchase and forward goods as may from time to time be ordered by them. The resident representative would be responsible for the examination, passing, or rejecting of all goods, the packing and forwarding of the same to the various distributive stores, see to the process of dyeing and finishing where such might have to be done by the Associa­ tion, and would forward to the head office daily all invoices for �io6 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. goods bought, and detailed particulars of goods forwarded to the distributive stores. All orders would be placed on the official forms of the Association. A copy of every order would, within twenty-four hours of the receipt of the same, be forwarded to the head office by the firm receiving it. Accounts would be settled monthly, or at such times as should entitle the Association to the largest possible discount for cash payments. All accounts to be paid from the chief office. All goods sold to be paid for on or before delivery. Full freedom of trade would exist. The resident repre­ sentatives would be free to enter into communication and busi­ ness relations with any manufacturers whatsoever ; preference in all cases being given to such concerns as shall adopt the principles of profit sharing, or industrial partnerships, or which shall in any way acknowledge the principles of participation of labour in profits. The remuneration of resident representatives would consist of a fixed salary proportionate to the magnitude and importance of the services rendered, and beyond this, in accordance with the principles already laid down, a share in the profits of their particular departments. The managers of the departments at the chief stores, as also at all the branches, would each be responsible to the directorate for the successful working of their departments, and would at any time visit any of the productive centres they might be in­ terested in, and, in conjunction with the resident representa­ tive, where there may be one appointed, make such purchases as may seem fit. Managers of departments and resident representatives would work in co-operation for the common good, but managers would be independent of the direct inter­ ference of resident representatives, the function of the latter being to supply the demand, of the former to say what the demand consists of. In the distributive stores efficiency and economy would be secured by placing two or three depart­ ments under one management, �SOME OF THE BENEFITS OF THE EEMEDY. 10/ The Association would organise its own factories or work­ rooms for the manufacturing of costumes, mantles, and various articles of dress ; the labour employed in these trades is the most depressed and worst paid of any connected with the textile and clothing trades, and yet the articles produced yield the largest rate of profit. Thousands of seamstresses and machinists work for wages of 8s. per week. The public, as consumers, by the multiplicity and costliness of middlemen, are made to pay 24s. to 40s. for the self-same work that the labourer was paid 8s. for doing. In this department a direct and mighty benefit can be conferred on labour, and, at the same time, a great saving made to consumers. Manufacturers have often stocks of goods thrown on their hands. Sometimes they may be too late in delivery, or they may have run a special style too long; in such cases it is diffi­ cult to fix a market price. The Distributive Association in a case of this sort would take goods on consignment, and would offer them at the market price, plus 12^ per cent, to cover expences and contingencies; if the goods sold, all well and good, the maker would be paid his price, but would not be entitled to any share of profit on consigned goods; if they did not sell the maker would have to take them back or reduce the price to such a limit as would ensure a sale; the buyers of the associa­ tion would be competent to judge if there was any probability of a proposed consigned lot being readily saleable. The advantage of a plan like this will be illustrated by stating a case which recently came before my notice. A manufacturer had received a cancel for 100 pieces of dress goods which had been sold to a Paris house at 2s. 6d. per yard; having them cancelled he had to find a customer. When it was seen by the wholesale buyers that it was a cancelled lot the market value dropped at once, after trying one and another the 100 pieces were eventually sold at is. 9|d. per yard to a wholesale firm, who afterwards sold them on commission to a large retail house at is. nd. per yard; the retail firm thought they were so very cheap they would get an extra profit, and sold the lot very �io8 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. speedily to the public at 3s. nd. per yard, being a profit of 2s. per yard. The maker lost 30 per cent, and the retailer made a profit of upwards of 100 per cent., the public gained no benefit. This is no exceptional case ; by the plan before named of taking any doubtful lot on consignment the association would save the producer from needless loss, and at the same time protect the consumer. The division of the profits to consumers would be simplified by any regular customer of the association being furnished with a pass book in which the total amount of recurring purchases would be entered, much the same way as the Post Office Savings’ Bank enters deposits in the pass books ; at the end of the half-year the pass books would be sent in for inspection, and the division of profits due to each remitted or paid accordingly ; a small charge of, say, one shilling per half-year might be made to cover the expenses of keeping these books ; but to every non-pass book holder an invoice bearing the official stamp of the association would be given for every sale, and at the division of profits the holders of these official invoices or sales notes would, within a given limit of time, be entitled to participate, precautions being taken to prevent any imposition or fraud. The division of profits to producers would be simple enough, the ledgers of the association would at a'glance show the total amount of purchases made from any producers who were entitled to participate. The division of profits to the workers in the distributive as­ sociations would be separated into two classes ; first, a fixed proportion of profits would be placed to the credit of a Mutual Aid or Insurance fund, and the balance of the amount allotted to employes would be paid in cash ; after a given number of years in the service of the association an employe would be entitled to a retiring pension, or if an employe died and left a widow she would be entitled to an annuity according to the condition of the funds of the Mutual Aid Society, and the nature of the services, and position her husband had occupied in the association. In �FURTHER BENEFITS OF THE REMEDY. 10$ the factories organized by the associations for the manufacture of garments, or for any other manufacturing process, the same principles would be applied. There would not be a co-worker in the associations that would not be making a provision against old age or accident, or, in case of premature death, the widow and fatherless children would be provided for, beyond the reach of absolute want. A few months ago I received a circular from a large retail house soliciting votes for the election of a youth into an orphan asylum ; if I was not a subscriber to the funds of the institution it was earnestly solicited I should at once become one so as to help this most urgent case. The facts of the case were as follow :—The youth for whom they were pleading for vote® was one of six young children, their father had died and left the widow and children totally unprovided for; he had been in the employ of the firm soliciting votes for twenty years and bore a good character. He was industrious and careful, but the claims of his family had made it impossible for him to provide for the future out of his limited income. During the twenty years he was in the employ of the house his yearly income had not averaged more than ^90, although he had discharged the duties of a responsible position. During the twenty years he had received a total of ^1,800, but during the same twenty years the partners in the house must have made considerably more than a million sterling, for just before the death of the employe one of the principals had died leaving a fortune of more than ^500,000. Was this an equitable distribution of the proceeds of industry ? On whom had the poor children of the hard-worked and under paid employe the greatest claim ? If some of the children were not provided for out of private charity there was no alternative but state pauperism for them. I think the reader will agree with me that the poor unfortunate widow and children had the greatest moral claim on the great wealth which the firm had made out of the under-paid labour of their servants, and the enormous profits made from the public who were their customers. �no DISTRIBUTION REFORM. The number of orphan asylums, trade schools, and charita­ ble institutions generally, has largely increased. It is a question that is woith consideration as to how far the public subscrip­ tions, by which they are supported, are simply an indirect tax paid voluntarily by the benevolent, which goes to mitigate the evils brought about by unrelenting private enterprise. The Mutual Aid fund in the distributive associations would obviate such a social scandal and injustice as I have referred to * hundreds of similar cases happen every year. In associations of capital and labour in France to which I shall presently refer, a mutual aid fund has been established and is working most suc­ cessfully. A security for the successful working of the distributive associations would be found in the individual interest each of the. co-workers in them would have for the collective well-being of the whole, in the participation of profits by the co-woikers there would be a guarantee against wasteful expenses and bad management. New life would be constantly infused, and in the publicity which would be given to the affairs of the associations, and the salutary effect of public opinion, there would be a safeguard against corruption and decay. And yet whilst the co-workers in the distributive associations might be looked to for making them a success for their own interests, those interests could not be served without conferring a benefit on the community. The public by their participation in profits as purchasers would be safeguarded against extortion, and the producers by virtue of their participation in surplus profits would also be safeguarded against undue depression, interests would be thoroughly mutual, and by the mutual association of capital and labour in productive enterprise, to which I shall shortly refer, morality and justice would prevail, the distribution of the proceeds of industry would be satisfactory, true co-opera­ tion would be established. If this method of distribution should ever become general there would be room for numerous associa­ tions. Healthy competition would stimulate one another; competition might then rule everything for the general good. �CHAPTER X. The Benefits of Mutual Association in Distribution—A Possible Saving of ^200,000,000 per Annum—Resulting in Increased Consumption and Greater Demand for Labour—Home Trade of Greater Importance than the Export Trade—The Fair Trade Cry and Depression in the WorstedTrade — The True Cause of the Depression in the Worsted Trade—If Distribution was in the Hands of Producers and Consumers for their Mutual Benefit the Pleas for Fair Trade and Protection would Lose their Potency. Assuming the successful establishment and working of distri­ butive associations, such as I have endeavoured to explain, what will be the benefit to the community, what saving to the public ? The population of Great Britain and Ireland is 36,000,000. Suppose the average consumption of food, clothing, and furni­ ture is only £"20 per head, the total yearly consumption at retail prices is therefore ^720,000,000. I am certainly under rather than over the mark when I say that the cost of dis­ tributing the vast amount of goods represented by this sum is not less than 33^ per cent, or one third of the total sum, in other words, the cost of distribution is ^£240,000,000 a year. In the returns of the Central Co-operative Board we have sufficient data whereon to base a calculation of the necessary cost of distribution. In the Manchester District Co-operative Association there are 32 societies with 92 branches, giving a total of 124 shops or stores. In 1883 the total sales amounted to ,£1,264,773 ; the total expenses, including wages, deprecia­ tion of stock and property, interest on capital, rents, rates, and taxes, were >£69,133, being equal to about five and a half per cent, on sales. The articles dealt in embraced food, clothing, furniture, and every household requisite, and comprising 124 �112 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. shops, give a fair indication of the actual necessary cost of dis­ * tribution. Supposing then the whole of the necessaries of life were distributed by associations for the mutual benefit of producers and consumers, and supposing the turnover is £720,000,000 a year, the cost need not exceed £"40,000,000, whereas it now amounts to not less than £240,000,000, there is therefore an unnecessary expenditure of £200,000,000 per annum. By the plan of distributive associations which I have laid down, the surplus profits after the payment of all expenses would be distributed. Suppose the distribution of goods foi home consumption were performed on that plan, and supposing present retail prices were charged, £200,000,000 would be distributed amongst the people. In 1883 the amount of the total declared value of British and Irish produce exported from the United Kingdom was £239,799,473, the amount of possible saving on the distribution of the goods we consume within ourselves is therefore only £"40,000,000 short of the total value of our export trade. Without fear of contradiction I maintain that if we were to economise distribution and make it thoroughly mutual we might make ourselves completely independent of foreign nations. I by no means wish to imply that we should disregard the importance of an export trade. By all means let us do as much as possible, but instead of looking to the export trade as the principal source of employment, if we were to thoroughly organise our home trade we have within it an abounding source of employment; instead of begging of foreign nations to make their fiscal policy suit our wishes, being strong in our intensive strength we might put ourselves in such a position as to sell our surplus productions on our own * Altogether the returns of 1,240 retail distributive societies are given by the Central Co-operative Board. I do not know how many branches they have, but there cannot be fewer than some 2,000 shops or stores. The expenses of all seem to be covered by five to six per cent, on turnover. The amount of business done is ^25,000,000. Therefore on a thirtieth part of the whole turnover of the country we have proof that five to six per cent, is sufficient to cover the cost of distribution. �NATIONAL GAIN OF MUTUAL DISTRIBUTION. II3 terms. The ^200,000,000 which I maintain may be saved in the cost of distribution, whether it was distributed as surplus profits or actually saved to consumers in the direct reduction of prices, would give a great impetus to increased consumption. There is not a workman now out of employ­ ment but might have work enough; there is not a worker now half-starving but might have food enough and the where­ withal to buy it, if this question of distribution was thoroughly reformed. In the calculation I have made of the yearly consumption, the average profit that is charged thereon over and above the cost of production, the necessary rate of expenses that would cover the cost of distribution by association, I have in no way exceeded the actual facts and possibilities; startling as are the deductions I draw from them, there is nothing I have stated beyond the reach of attainment. I do not mean to say the result could be obtained in one year or five years, but if an earnest effort was made it would be astonishing how speedily good results would show themselves. Within five years, with­ out lowering the present rate of wages, it is possible to reduce the cost of living in this country fully one-fourth. The increased consumption, and, therefore, the increased demand for labour, occasioned by this saving in distribution, is not the only direct gain that would be conferred on home labour. If the distribution of goods was performed by pro­ ducers and consumers for their mutual benefit, in less than five years we should hear no more of Fair Trade and Protection. The distribution of goods, I maintain, is now in the hands of aliens, whose interests lie neither with producers nor con­ sumers ; they are simply in business as shopkeepers, to make fortunes out of the cheap rates at which they buy from pro­ ducers and the dear rates at which they sell to consumers. It is their policy to encourage the keenest competition amongst producers ; they welcome foreign competitors as a means of still further depressing the prices of home manufactures. Since the French treaty of i860 we have gradually increased the quantities of foreign manufactures imported for home conI �DISTRIBUTION REFORM. 114 sumption, until now, in the silk and woollen trades, unless this matter is seriously taken in hand, we bid fair ere long to import more than we make ourselves. In 1883 we imported woollen and worsted manufactures valued at ^6,251,281, and woollen and worsted yarns valued at ^2,001,603. So recently as 1869 the value of woollen manufactures imported was only * ^2,534,523 Values in 1869 were much higher than in 1883; if quantities were shown, the increase in 1883 would appear to be not less than three times the quantity imported in 1869. In silk manufactures we are almost dependent on foreign sup­ plies ; our home industries have been well-nigh ruined since i860. Even in cotton manufactures, which are supposed to be our strength, we now import goods of the value of ^2,500,000—double the quantity we imported in 1870. The severe political economist and the strict free trader will tell us that competition rules everything. If foreign goods can be bought cheaper than home-made goods, competition decides the purchase—foreign goods must be bought and home manufactures neglected. But this is all nonsense ; com­ petition does not decide the sale in retail purchases, that is, in what the purchaser (the consumer) buys for his own wants ; * The following table shows the value of our exports and imports of woollen and worsted manufactures, including yarns, previous to the French Treaty of i860, and at various periods since then :—• Woollen Exports. ............ and Worsted Manufactures. Imports. £ £ 12,731,827 1858 .. 1862 17,001,429 1862 ... ..................... 1,850,000 1869 22,669,233 1869 ... ... ... 4,3TO,2I2 1858 ... ... 1,250,000 1883 ..................... ... 8,252,884 1883 ............ 18,315,575 From this it will be seen that whilst our exports have increased in value since 1858 only one-half, our imports have increased nearly sevenfold. If our exports had increased at the same rate as our imports, we should now be doing ^90,000,000 a year instead of ^’18,000,000. These statistics speak for themselves. They are a very unsatisfactory indication of the condition of an industry which was formerly only second in importance to agriculture, and which is now second in importance of our textile industries. If the same progress is made in imports as we have experienced since 1869, and the same rate of decline in our exports, in about five years we shall be importing more than we export. �FAIR TRADE AND PROTECTION. • I 15 foreign goods are imported mainly for two reasons, one, that manufacturers’ prices should be depressed and a greater margin of profit left to the distributor; another is for the sake of novelty and fashion, for something to attract public notice and make an advertisement—a foreign name is supposed to have a great charm, a French .cotton or a French stuff is sup­ posed to be more fascinating than an English one. Can any one believe that this sentiment, this short-sighted and suicidal policy would be pursued if the distribution of goods was per­ formed for the benefit of producers and consumers ? Certainly not. Did the old yeoman go buying foreign stuffs when he had his own looms for making his cloth ? Not he. Would the producers and consumers of to-day so far forget their own interests, if they were collectively associated for promoting them, by buying a large proportion of their cloths abroad, and leave their looms at home standing all the while ? Not they. The foreigner would sell here what we could not produce our­ selves, and we should be glad to buy of him; just the same way as we should sell to a foreigner what he could not make., and which, in spite of his protective duties, he is glad to buy from us. If in this country we continue to pursue the policy we are pursuing—having land, and getting but a fractional part of the possible produce from it, having manufactures, but buying from foreigners a large quantity of the textile fabrics we wear—the sooner we write Ichabod on the walls the better. Where can be our greatness if we are so weak ? I am sure to be told that taste and fashion have a good deal to do with the importations of foreign manufactures. Fashion is a very fickle thing, diffi­ cult to define ; nobody knows where it comes from nor where it goes; it is somewhat a matter of sentiment, but largely a matter of accident. The probabilities are, if as producers and consumers we collectively distributed our goods, the sentiment and accidents of fashion would remain with us, we should have as great a variety and as much novelty as hitherto. But, say some, we are deficient in technical education; the country that has 1 2 �ii6 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. invented and now makes most of the machinery used in textile manufactures has lost its craft ; foreigners who have bought its machinery, and learned from it the art of its use, have out­ stripped it in taste and skill. The cry of the Fair Tradersand the lament of the Technical Educators came upon us simultaneously ; they both had their origin in what has been called the decline of the Bradford trade. In our cotton trade there is no falling-off, we have a fairly pro­ gressive trade, in it there is nothing the Fair Traders can lay hold of. The Bective movement brought the decline in the Bradford trade prominently before the public. Never was a movement founded on so unstable a foundation ; few have ended in so great a fiasco. Rightly to understand this question, the worsted trade must not be confounded with the woollen trade. In the manufac­ ture of woollen cloths we hold our own both at home and abroad, we are literally without foreign competition in our home market; but in the manufacture of worsted stuffs, chiefly for ladies’ dresses, we have lost a great deal of our foreign trade, and, as I have shown, import a largely increased quantity for home con­ sumption ; the decline has been most marked since 1874. This decline in our worsted trade has brought about the cry of the Fair Traders for protective duties on goods imported from those foreign countries which put protective duties on our goods going thereto, and in this way a blow is expected to be given to the importation of foreign woollens, also silks. Home industry, it is represented, would thereby be benefited, but the only people that would benefit would be the capitalist manufacturer and the retailer, for they would both have a forcible excuse for putting on greater profits, which the consumer would have to pay ; consumption would be restricted, little extra demand for labour would be created, wages would not rise in purchasing power. The decline in our worsted trade also gave increased force to the lament of our want in technical education. Neither the Fair Traders, nor the Technical Educators, nor the Bective �CAUSE OF DEPRESSION IN BRADFORD TRADE. II/ movement put the real issue before the people of this country ■, the real cause of the decline in our worsted trade was not stated. The fact is, that since 1840 the success of our worsted trade, as shown in the prosperity and rapid growth of Bradford, and the villages and towns around it engaged in the same branch of trade, has been made in the manufacture of mixed fabrics, that is, fabrics made of cotton warp and worsted weft. In fact, if the truth must be told, Bradford made its rapid fortune by breaking the Mosaic law—in the nineteenth chapter of Leviticus and the nineteenth verse, we read “ Ye shall keep my statutes. Thou shalt not let cattle gender with a diverse kind ; thou shalt not sow thy field with mingled seed, neither shall a garment mingled of linen and. woollen come upon thee." In Deuteronomy the commandment reads : “ Thou shalt not wear a mingled stuff, wool and linen together." From this it is clear the children of Israel were forbidden to wear mixed fabrics, therefore it was useless to make them. It is a most impressive confirmation of the good sense and sound economic truth of this law, that the manufactures throughout the world that have been founded on the mixing of articles, making spurious fabrics and shoddy garments, have had a short life and a most fitful existence; their success for a time may have been brilliant, but it has not lasted. * Previous to 1840 the worsted manufacture in England was a pure manufacture, the fabrics were alike in warp and weft English wool made a sharper handling fabric than French, Spanish or Saxony wool. Until 1800 the importation of foreign wool into Great Britain was free. The quantity then imported averaged for some years about four and a-half million pounds’ weight a year, of which Spanish merino wool was the largest item. From 1800 to 1844 import duties of varying amount were levied on foreign wool, so that it is evident the legislature intended the manufacture of woollen and worsted fabrics during this period should be restricted as much as possible to the use of English-grown wool. At this time the manufacture of worsted �118 DIS TRIB UTION REFORM. stuffs in France was of some importance. French merinos had for centuries been a favourite fabric; the difference between the French merinos and British merinos was that the former were softer and finer in texture than the latter, because they were made of softer and more fleecy wools than could be grown in England. The English manufacturers vigorously appealed for the repeal of the import duty on foreign wool, for they wanted the soft fleecy merino wools to mix with home­ grown wools, to make their fabrics of softer and finer texture ; the duty was repealed in 1844. During this period the French and English manufacturers were making similar fabrics, but about 1840 the English manufacturers made a new depar­ ture. The consumption of fabrics of any kind was very small; they were very dear, but possessed the virtue of lengthened wear. The cotton manufacture had rapidly grown into import­ ance ; after several attempts the combination of the cheaper cotton warps was at last combined with worsted weft, a new class of fabric was made. Coarse wools of the alpaca character were used, which were previously found unuseable; a new industry sprang into importance; from 1840 the worsted stuff manufac­ ture may be said to have been the making of“ mingled fabrics.” Whilst English worsted-stuff manufacturers had departed from the manufacture of all-wool fabrics, French manufacturers went on making their merinos and tissues de laine; they have never striven to compete with us in the manufacture of mixed fabrics. At the time the English worsted-stuff manufacturers de­ parted from the manufacture of all-wool fabrics, an important factor in the future character of the woollen manufacture was at work in the development of our Australian colonies. In 1820 our total importation of foreign and colonial wool was 9,789,020 lbs., of which only 99,415 lbs. was from Aus­ tralia; in 1840 the total importations were 46,880,745 lbs., of which 9,721,243 lbs. came, from Australia; in 1884 the total import was 527,000,000 lbs., of which no less than 382,545,933 lbs. came from Australia, more than half of which �PURE VERSUS MINGLED FABRICS. I IQ we, however, re-exported for foreign manufactures. In our Australian colonies the merino sheep has found a more con­ genial home than in its native grounds on the plains of Andalusia, the South of France, or Saxony. It will be seen that from 1840 to 1884 the importation has grown from nine and three-quarter million pounds weight to three hundred and eighty-two and a-half million pounds weight in 1884. It is this vast increase in the growth of Australian merino wool that has been the most important factor in the change that has come over our worsted trade. Whilst our manufacturers were busy with their mingled fabrics, French manufacturers were buying our machinery, changing from handloom production to the factory system, and all the while increasing their trade, and improving the character of their all-wool fabrics by the use of Australian wools, for which they come over to the London wool­ sales to buy. In the worsted fabrics they make there is no great taste in design, for three-fourths and more of what we buy from them are of the plainest character—fabrics so simple in construction, you may see the self-same textures wrapped round the bodies of Egyptian mummies that have been buried three thousand years. It is a confirmation of the soundness of the Mosaic law to which I have drawn attention, that the whole of our imports of foreign worsted manufactures are pure wool fabrics, not mingled with either linen or cotton. It is still further a confirmation of the uniform good sense and taste of the wearers of these fabrics, that they are plain but rich in tex­ ture, of such primitive construction and character as the Jews of old made and wore, such as the classic Grecian robe was made of, and such as are yet to be found to this day being made in the out-of-the-way villages in the East. In the making of these fabrics there is no superior technical knowledge required. Why, then, may it be asked, do we not make what we consume? The reply is because, until 1874, the English manufacturer was so engrossed in the execution of orders for the export and home trade for mixed fabrics, he never troubled about anything else. So long as our manufac- �120 distribution reform. turers were fully employed, they took no trouble to look at the signs of the times. They were not troubled about the distribu­ tion of their goods ; that was done by middlemen, and there­ fore they knew nothing of what foreign manufacturers were doing. Towards 1878, however, after two or three years’ bad trade, English manufacturers began to think and look about; they suddenly found the importation of foreign worsted stuffs was increasing at an alarming rate ; that just as our trade in this class of goods was falling off with neutral countries, that of french makers was increasing in a similar proportion. Then up went the cry for Fair Trade, the Bective movement, and technical education, and for longer hours of labour. It was said that foreign manufacturers worked longer hours than we; although some said we suffered from over-production, the evil was to be cured by working longer hours and producing more. * The real truth of the whole matter is, the manufacture of __ mingled fabrics ” is played out and made useless, by the vast increase in the growth of wool in our colonies, and the cheap­ ness at which fine merino wools and pure all-wool fabrics can now be made. Whilst the English manufacturer was growing rapidly rich out of the profits of a new industry, so independent was he, the distribution of his goods did not trouble him one * Whilst our manufacturers are demanding a restoration of sixty working hours for a week, the Act of Sir Richard Cross having reduced them to fifty-six hours (these demands are favourably noticed by journals of standing and influence, such as the Economist}, French manufacturers are clamouring for a reduction of their working hours; they say depression in trade is caused because manufacturers work up to, and some more than, the twelve hours fixed by law as daily working hours. Depression cannot be caused in England by the very thing which French manufacturers are seeking to copy as a& cure for their depression. I wonder if it ever occurs to English and Foreign capitalist manufacturers that if they pay three-fourths of the population the lowest possible wages, and work them half their living hours, and for those depressed wages and long hours get an ever-increasing production of goods, the question must sooner or later be answered, Who is going to consume the goods produced ? Clearly the workers cannot, for they work in rags or the worst of worn-out clothing, they have little leisure in which to wear better things ; and if they had, their wages are too small to admit of them being purchasers. If this is the condition of the workers, who form the bulk of the population, who then can consume the goods produced ? �ENGLISH MANUFACTURERS AND DISTRIBUTION. 121 atom •, he left this important function to a set of middlemen, who for years came to him begging for his productions. Whilst he was thus independent and at ease, French and German manufacturers were up and doing, stealthily taking a march on their self-satisfied English competitor. Whilst the English manufacturer was pursuing a stay-at-home policy, leaving the sale and distribution of his goods to others, French manufac­ turers were at work in every market of the world, doing their trade direct, trusting to as few middlemen as possible—fre­ quently to none at all. In our home trade the goods of an English maker could not get into the hands of a retailer without passing through at least one wholesale merchant’s hands, often they went through two ; but French manufacturers, seeing their opportunity, came and sold direct to the large retail houses. They made a trade, and established a business for their soft, all-wool fabrics; the British public returned to their old allegiance, and wore the class of fabric they had been accustomed to before 1840. The English manufacturer was outdone by smarter men; when he awoke to the seriousness of the position, he found he was too late. He was hemmed in by trade prejudices and customs; the whole­ sale middlemen who sold his goods would not allow him to sell direct as the French makers did ; even if he was wishful to do so, he was without experience in the method of doing it; the retail distributors cared nothing for the prosperity of the English manufacturer, it did not matter where the goods came from so long as they made good profits. The English maker was stranded, left high and dry on the sand-bank, the current was changed and went rolling along in a new channel. The point I here wish to impress upon the reader is, that if distribution had been performed in the collective interests of producers and consumers, English manufacturers would have been cognisant of the actual state of the market. If they had been directly interested in the distribution of their goods, or, to put it another way, if they had been conversant with the wants of consumers by coming into direct contact with them, as they �122 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. will do in such a plan as I have explained, they would never have been so completely worsted as they have been. The crisis they have been and are passing through is a severe one ; it is the breaking-up of middlemanism, and drawing the manu­ facturer out of his retirement into an active interest in the distribution of his productions. It has been proved that English manufacturers can make the goods we are importing equally as well as the foreigner, also that English dyers can dye and finish them quite as well; the great difficulty is the middleman, the retail distributor. He has no interest in making a new departure, the cry 'of foreign goods answers his purpose, he would rather have a few more foreign competitors to lower prices and increase his profits. I may be pardoned any seeming egotism if I prove what I say by the relation of a personal experience. Some four years ago, when public attention was drawn to this question of home manufactures, unfortunately for my peace of mind and welfare I took a lively interest in it. From a consideration of the facts and the history of the question, I saw that what we had got to do, was to show that we could make the pure all-wool fabrics as well as the previous generation of English makers had done, and also as well as foreign manu­ facturers are now doing ; the secret of winning back the home trade we were letting go to the foreigners lay in the breaking of the prejudice in favour of foreign fabrics, by proving we could produce as good at home ; the task was a formidable one, and turned out much more formidable than I expected. My engagements, however, left me free to devote considerable time to the prosecution of the task; an important and able manufacturer was ready to make the goods and- find the capital necessary for the working of the business; I became the middleman, and got the goods dyed and finished, and then set about finding a sale for them. After a few trials the goods were made successfully, and a dyer was found to dye and finish them as successfully. There had been so much outcry for home manufactures, I anticipated at any rate an impartial trial �RETAIL DISTRIBUTORS' IDEA OF BRITISH INTERESTS. 123 from the retailers; but to my astonishment the more determined I became to succeed the more difficulties they put in my way; by some I was told they would buy home-made all-wool cashmeres and merinos when I had got the British public to insist on having them; by others I was told that the goods would only be bought at such prices as would make it a decided inducement for them to change from foreign goods. Others said the British public liked gammoning, if they could be most easily gammoned with foreign fabrics it was not likely for the sake of supporting home manufactures they would make a change. Not to be baffled, I acted on the advice I received, and set to work to make the goods known to the public ; the most efficient way of doing this was found to be in advertising : by giving a good order for advertisements, the fashion and society and trade journals would give “paragraph notices;” by degrees a little attention was drawn to the goods, and a few retailers induced to take them up. Meantime, a display of them was made at the Amsterdam Exhibition, in spite of the mis­ representations of French manufacturers : for they represented to the jurors that although the goods were called English they were not made in England, but were French goods shown under the name of English for the sake of making a name and a market. The silver medal (the second prize) was awarded ; the jurors intimated that as it was a first exhibition of the fabrics the second prize was a high honour, and would meet the case, although in point of merit the exhibit was equal to the best there, and French makers who had taken prizes at the great exhibitions since 1851 were fully represented. Step by step a sale was made for the goods, but as I pro­ gressed in breaking down the prejudice, I found myself no nearer a solid success and a paying business. The best retail houses in the kingdom were induced to take them up; some houses that had bluntly refused to entertain them asked for them as they came more prominently before the public, but I found the more public favour was enlisted to them the less �124 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. did I progress in reaping a benefit. Cloths, which for an in­ troduction I sold at is. 9d., I found retailed at 2s. 6d. per yard as being marvellously cheap; others I sold at 2s. 3d. I found retailed at 3s. 6d. per yard, After a season, when orders were expected to be repeated, and it had been proved beyond question we could make the goods, new difficulties presented themselves. I was told that French makers had reduced their prices, and I must do the same or could not have any more business. To keep the ball rolling so as not to lose the bene­ fits of the good impression already made, concessions in prices were made ; but I still found the prices to the consumer the same. If a penny per yard reduction was made to the retailer it all went into his pocket, the consumer did not benefit; but worse still, in some cases, I found scores of pieces of French goods of inferior quality sold as this particular make of English goods, and this, too, by houses who were having the advantage of getting the goods advertised for them free of cost. In every case I found that, having made a speciality of the goods, each retailer in every town who took them up insisted on having a monopoly. Hemmed in by difficulties on all sides, I saw plainly enough the only way to break down the prejudice and participate in the price of the. market was not only to appeal direct to the public, but also to supply the goods direct to the public. At the risk of a rupture with the manufacturer, I offered fand supplied them direct to the public. The result was that in three months’ time no less than 2,000 sales were made to ladies in all parts of Great Britain, amongst the number ladies of title and position in society and in the fashionable world. This, it must be remembered, was on one class of fabric alone ; in three months, by a direct appeal to the public, sales were made of greater amount than I could obtain through the middlemen in six times that period when first in­ troducing the goods. The attempt ended in apparent failure. It was deemed uncustomary for a manufacturer to have his goods sold in a somewhat direct manner to the public. A manufacturer, it would seem, makes his goods first of all for �A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. I25 the benefit of middlemen, allowing them to impose a duty on them, and only after that for the good of consumers. I was glad to be rid of the worry and work, and had to retire from it under the humiliation of failure ; but I had the great satisfac­ tion of learning, and proving to those who cared to see it, that the cause of the large imports of foreign stuffs was not superior technical skill : for I believe that neither any of the manu­ facturers’ staff who so successfully made the goods, nor any of the dyers’ workmen who so ably dyed and finished the goods, •received a single lesson in the technicalities of their crafts to enable them to do what they did. The stumbling-block is purely and simply the prejudice and personal interests of the retail distributors. After, so far as I was concerned, the busi­ ness was ended; within nine months, no less than 1,200 repeat orders and inquiries were made for the fabrics by ladies who had previously been supplied : a convincing proof of the confi­ dence they had won and the ultimate success that would have been attained. I need not follow the matter further, nor give the subsequent history of the goods. What I have said is sufficient to prove my contention. Before summarising the benefits to be derived from a thorough reform in distribution, we must devote some con­ sideration to that branch of our subject dealing with the organization of productive establishments, and the distribution of the proceeds of industry as between capital and labour ; to this important question we will turn our attention in the following chapter. �CHAPTER XL Organization of Associations in Production—Industrial Partnerships and Profit Sharing The true and false Association of Capital and Labour_ The French Minister of the Interior on the Vital Power of Association—The French Parliamentary Commission on Working-Men's AssociationsIllustrations of the Success of the Association of Labour and Capital in France—The Familistère at Guise—The Maison Leclaire, Paris—Their Moral, Social, and Economic advantages —The Absence of such Associations in England—The Federal Combination of Associations for Distribution, and Associations for Production, a Complete System of Co­ operation—Mr. Bright and Free Labour—Free Imports do not of them­ selves give Freedom to Labour—Free Trade and Military Expenditure— Greater Benefits to be conferred on the people by a Reform in Distribution than have yet been conferred by Partial Free Trade—A free Breakfast­ table —Direct and indirect Taxation—The true Meaning of Capital—Sum­ mary of the Benefits to be derived from a Reform in Distribution. Hitherto, I have treated of the organization of associations for distribution only. The question may be asked, What guarantee will you have that the surplus profits which the Distributive Associations will return to producers will benefit labour? Private firms might do a large business with the Distributive Associations, and put into the pockets of the proprietors every penny of the division of profits they partici­ pate in, and what amelioration in the condition of the labourer would there come of it ? The reply to such objections is, that the Distributive Associations at the commencement would have to make the best of Industrial Organizations as they now exist, and would without respect of persons return the surplus profits to producers and consumers, in proportion to purchases and sales no private firm could, however, long withstand the pressure of public opinion ; if they were treated as I have de­ scribed in the participation of the profits of the Distributive Associations, they could not long resist the moral claims of their workers to be treated in like manner. �MUTUAL ASSOCIATION OF CAPITAL AND LABOUR. 127 As I have already stated, preference would be given to such productive concerns as acknowledged and acted upon the principle of the rights of labour to share in profits ; within a short time of the establishment of the Distributive Associations confederate arrangements would be made with productive establishments adopting the principle of participation in profits —many private firms now completely at a deadlock would, I am quite sure, be ready to organise themselves on this principle, if they saw a safe and steady outlet for their productions ; on the other hand, in some branches of trade, Industrial Partnerships might be established; in all cases the organization of industry would be free to adopt the system most suited to each particular trade, the Distributive Associations would be the bridge connecting producer and consumer across which each might travel on equal terms, the only toll exacted being simply the actual cost of maintenance, and nothing more. Once the principles were practically demonstrated on which the Distributive Associations would be founded, a new light would dawn on productive industry. Ere long, production, distribution, and consumption would be associated in one vast federal Union, based upon a living realization of the truism that their interests are mutual ; in this moral union Capital would be accorded its due, and Labour and Intellect their rights ; with a free system of distribution, labour and capital could associate for their mutual benefit in many ways now impossible. It will be opportune now for us shortly to explain some of the most successful systems by which the relations of workmen and capitalists have been put on a sounder footing. These are— (1) The co-operation of workmen and employers in any scheme of partnership which gives to the employed a share in nett profits in addition to wages. (2) The co-operation of workmen forming joint Stock Com­ panies for prosecuting any Industrial Enterprise, Manufacturing �128 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. or Agricultural, the capital being bona-fidely provided by the workmen themselves. These two forms of association are what are generally called Co-operative production :—besides these, there are_ . (3) Limited liability companies, founded on the joint stock principle, professedly with the object of associating Capital and Labour by enabling the employed to become shareholders. Such, for example, as the Oldham Cotton Spinning Companies, and manufacturing firms like John Crossley and Sons, Limited, Norton Bros, and Co., Limited, Mark Oldroyd and Sons, Limited; and Crewdson Crosses and Co., Limited; and I must also add the Flour Mills and other productive Societies associated with the Central Co-operative Board. (4) Private firms giving at their pleasure a bonus to labour, but acknowledging no fixed principle—disclosing no accounts, nor taking the employed into their confidence in any way what­ soever. I will at once say the two latter so-called forms of associa­ ting Capital with Labour are unworthy lengthened consider­ ation, for in no way do they offer any solution of the problem they profess to deal with. The Productive Societies rendering returns to the Central Co-operative Board, which are inferentially treated as Co-operative Productive Societies, show a share and loan capital in 1884 of £772,342. Goods sold, ^1,791,074; and nett profit made during 1884, ,£76,224. The amount paid to labour out of this profit appears to have been the mighty sum of ^£546. It will be difficult to explain where the co-operation is to be found in these societies, and yet more difficult to explain how they in any way perform the great mission co-operators have taken upon themselves to prosecute. The Limited Liability Companies at Oldham admit no right of the labourer to share in profits—only shareholders, the providers of the capital, participate; a few workmen may be shareholders, but it is pretty well known that the shareholders are mainly capitalists and speculators; many of the Companies, �CAPITAL AND LABOUR IN ENGLAND. 129 and there are about 100 of them, have been floated by speculators in shares without any regard whatever to the interests of the workers. It is a sad reflection on the assumed co-operative spirit of the ‘‘Oldham Limiteds” that their operatives are now on strike against a reduction in wages. Imagine a co-operative association of workers striking against their own interests ! In the body corporal the foot does not strike against the head, nor the hand against the eye. Every separate member works in harmony with its fellow members ; all co-operate for the common good. As regards the Limited Companies which have been converted from private firms, they also only acknowledge the right of the shareholders to participate in profits ; their relations with their workers are no more amicable or mutual than in any private firms, where the rights of labour are considered satisfied by the payment of the lowest possible competition wages. If the truth were told, many of these once private firms now turned into Limited Companies, were established as public companies simply as a means whereby the proprietors could relieve themselves of heavy burdens too great for private enterprise to bear; to adopt limited liability is a convenient way of defining the respective shares and responsibilities of many members of a family, and also of allowing the public to share the risks; they have not done one atom to better the relations between workmen and capitalists. Private firms, or Limited Liability Companies giving at their pleasure a bonus to labour without any spirit of co-operation, maintaining a policy of strict secresy, have also not contributed to a better feeling between Capital and Labour. Secresy is the cause of mistrust; if profits have been abnormally large, the workers have had no confidence that they have received their fair share in bonus. If they have been small, there has been a mistrust that the bonus was smaller than needs be; if profits have vanished altogether, the workers have not believed things were so bad as represented; disputes as to wages have followed—the only solution of the problem as to J �130 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. the respective rights of Capital, Intellect and Labour lies in the acknowledgment of the truth that they are inseparable. If they are inseparable, they ought to be mutual. A house divided against itself cannot stand—they can only be made mutual by the exercise of the fullest confidence. The assess­ ment of their respective shares of the proceeds of their con­ joint enterprise can only be satisfactorily adjusted by treating everything above-board. It is to France we must turn for the best illustrations of the successful working of co-operative productive establishments, and for examples of the great benefits derived from the par­ ticipation of labour in profits. A French Parliamentary Commission has recently been inquiring into the working of working-men’s associations, and much valuable evidence has been put on record regarding the constitution and working of these associations. M. Waldeck Rousseau, Minister of the Interior, President of the Commission, addressed the members at the close of their labours as follows :— “ The firms that admit their staff to a share in their profits show results not less remarkable than those of the working­ men’s associations. The advantages of this combination—which have, perhaps, been too little considered by the parties in­ terested-—have become better known through the information supplied by the inquiry. This institution, as well as that of the working-men’s associations, have found new and valuable advo­ cates. The witnesses examined show also that, with rare exceptions, these trials, notwithstanding the difficulties of the time, have been successful. Only five of the associations whose history has, so to speak, been unrolled before you, have failed. And of these three have perished from causes quite foreign to the system which has formed the subject of inquiry. Almost all of them have succeeded in securing to their members a remunera­ tion for their work more equitable, more reasonable andfair, and thus affording them a proof of the vital power of association. Not less deserving of attention are the facts brought to light by �ASSOCIATION IN FRANCE. 131 the inquiry in respect to the participation in profits. The evidence taken by us shows that working-men’s associations and the participation in profits are guarantees for the good execution of work. I have been struck by the decision with which the most experienced employers have declared that by estab­ lishing in their firms theparticipation in profits, they had not only done a good action, but made a good stroke of business. You will find this affirmation on the lips of all whom you have heard. The labour, the co-operation which they obtain, is more efficient, more productive. We are, they add, amply repaid for the sacrifice we have made by the devoted co-help that we obtain. “ I stated at our first meeting that in my opinion we are in the presence of facts which are irresistibly carrying labour into new paths. This prognostic, this judgment, formed at the commencement, has been confirmed in my mind by the attentive examination of the economical'transforma ions which * every day grow more decided. If it is true that the products of industry do not leave a profit large enough to allow of the present conflict between the workman and the manufacturer becoming more aggravated without danger, I, at least, cannot see any practical solution, except in the development of associa­ tion under all its forms, uniting what is now separated, and asking for the reward of labour out of the profits that it has procured. This is the thought to which I have already given shape before you, in saying that labour would progressively seek its remuneration less and less from the hire of work and more and more from association. “ Here is the dominant idea which leads us to seek how the State, within the limits of the action permitted to it, may aid the development of workmen’s associations. The attentive study which I have made has brought two main conclusions. The first is, that association in all its forms develops and improves the moral and material condition of the labourer. It procures for him a more equitable remuneration. It raises him a step in the social scale. He becomes his own master, and is at once J 2 �132 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. employer and employed. He comes into contact with every social interest. A closer solidarity binds them together. There results a valuable guarantee for good order and progress. Thus, in my eyes, does the interest of the State justify it in developing and giving facilities to the associations. “ If the State ought not to impose association, assuredly its duty is to remove all useless and superannuated hindrances to it. Neither obligation nor obstacle—such appears to me to be the rule that ought to guide us.” This is a most valuable tribute to the advantages, moral, material, and economic, of the power of association. The employers of labour and capitalists in this country will do well to turn their attention to the study of the various forms of asso­ ciation now successfully working in France ; leaving aside the moral elevation of the workers and the improvement of their social condition, a mastery of the details of these associations will convincingly prove that participation in profits, the taking of workers into full confidence, pays. M. Godin, the founder of the Familistère at Guise, in his evidence before the French Parliamentary Commission, reply­ ing to a question as to what is the result from the industrial point of view of the association of capital and labour, on the principle of participation of workers in profits, replied “ From the industrial point of view the facts speak more forcibly than any possible praise. Since the association has been established, the workmen have become interested in im­ proving production. They are watchful to point out any losses or causes of imperfect work. They exert their ingenuities to discover novelties. We are continually obliged to take out new patents.” Asked if in the name of the society or of the inventors, he replied In the name of the society. I ought to say that I have my share in these inventions. Only, during my previous industrial career I had to do everything myself. When the idea was conceived I had to work it out and appre­ ciate it. Now I can say to my co-workers, investigate in this or that direction, there is something to be done there • and �THE FAMILISTÈRE AT GUISE 133 this is done with enthusiasm, with the desire of attaining a result.” The Familistère at Guise, destined to be referred to in generations yet to come as one of the cradles in which the industrial organizations of the future were nursed and tended, was founded by M. Godin in i860; it was only, however, in 1877 that the principle of participation was established. At Guise, and the branch establishment at Lacken, near Brussels, 900 persons now participate in profits. All are become shareholders, some to the extent of ^30, others >£40, and even ¿£400. The constitution of the association appears to be grafted on to what was originally M. Godin’s private firm. The capital at the present time is as follows :—M. Godin’s share ^£i 23,000 ; the 900 shareholders referred to possess amongst them ¿£48,000 ; a reserve fund of ¿£16,000, and also a capital of ¿£26,800 forming a fund for the assurance of pensions and a guarantee against want. This fund receives annually from the association a sum equal to two per cent, of the wages and salaries, taken from the profits before any division of them is made ; a provision against accident, want, or old age is thus made a first duty; the insurance fund receives interest at the rate of five per cent, before profits are calculated. Besides the 900 who participate in profits and are become shareholders, there are about 500 other persons who do not participate, but they have a right to assistance and to retiring pensions. The association has now thirty-five pensioners in the enjoyment of perfect security, as­ sured against misery till their last hour. The administration of the Familistère is in the hands of a directive council, with M. Godin as gerant or managing director. The heads of each department in the different branches of the business have each a seat on the council ; besides these, the associés elect six persons who represent the workers on the council. The division of profits is made in proportion to the respect­ ive shares in the production. It is a rule in the association to estimate the services rendered by capital, labour, and skill, �134 DIS TRIBUTION REFORM. and to attribute to each of them a share in profits propor­ tionate to the services performed. If a working shareholder derives, for instance, ^40 as interest on his capital, and on the other hand receives ^40 as wages, the total amount of the services rendered by him to the association is thus valued at ^80, and it is on this basis that he participates rateably in the £ in the division of profits. The participants are divided into three classes : a partici­ pant requires one year’s residence, a sociétaire three years, and an associé five years, besides other conditions prescribed by the statutes of the association. An associé is considered to render service of greater value than a sociétaire, and & sociétaire services of greater value than a participant. . The participant shares in proportion to the exact amount of his salary, the sociétaire in proportion to one-and-a-half times, and the associé in propor­ tion to twice the amount of his salary. Last year the partici­ pant received 15 per cent., the sociétaire 23 per cent., and the associé 30 per cent, on their wages. M. Godin draws ^9,000 interest on his capital, and a salary of ^3,20.0 as gerant or managing director,.which sums he considers enormous, yet they are only his share of the profits as defined by the principles of participation. His co-workers are more than satisfied, and have no desire to get rid of him. The workers receive only in cash the interest upon the shares allotted to them, all other, shares in profits, acquired by them are converted into shares in the association, without increasing M. Godin’s capital. These new shares serve to repay the original shares; if, say, ^30,000 of profits were distributed in one year, this would be converted into new shares for the working shareholders, and . would repay a corresponding proportion of M. Godin’s capital. M. Godin says : “ My shares would be replaced in the society by those of the workers. There is a further point to which, gentlemen, I invite your attention. A time may come when all my capital will have been repaid. The workers will have taken my �CONSTITUTION OF THE FAMILISTERE. 135 place ; but under our statutory provisions the repayment will continue indefinitely. It will act on the oldest shares, so that the establishment will always remain in the hands of actual workers. This is a result which I consider to be very impor­ tant in an economical point of view.” Besides association in business, there is in the Familistère a co-operative consumers’ society. Everything which a com­ munity of 1,200 requires in food and clothing is supplied like the Lancashire co-operative societies at the usual trade prices ; the profits at the end of the year are distributed, half to the buyers, and the other half carried to the general account of the profits of the Association. Last year 5 per cent, was given to the buyers on the amount of their purchases, and 5 per cent, carried to the general profits. * Nor is this all. The principle of association is carried even to the housing of the workers, somewhat after the fashion of the ancient house community, traces of which are yet to be found in existence in Switzerland. A co-operative house community is also found amongst the savages of the Pacific Isles. At Guise large buildings called palaces, the property of the association, are let out in rooms to suit the workers, and as the workers are shareholders in the association, they are in part their own landlords. M. Godin says that individual liberty, which is prized above everything, is respected at Guise. In the palaces the worker is not put in a barrack ; the inhabi* The constitution of the Co-operative Consumers’ Society at Guise, it will be seen, is somewhat similar to the constitution of the Distributive Associations I have herein advocated. I accept the fact as a most valuable approval of the soundness of the principles on which they would be founded. When I first suggested this form of association, I was totally ignorant of the existence of the Familistère at Guise. That I should have arrived at conclusions so similar, and so fully in sympathy with those at which M. Godin had previously arrived, is a noteworthy coincidence, full of good augury. The application of the principles laid down in the associations I have recommended are more thorough and cos­ mopolitan, and calculated to diffuse the benefits and economy of association more widely than does the Guise Co-operative Consumers’ Society. But I need not just now attempt to draw a comparison ; it will for the present be sufficient to draw attention to their similarity. �DISTRIBUTION REFORM. tant of rooms, M. Godin declares, is freer than in an isolated dwelling. The rooms are entered from large galleries, which represent the footpaths of a street. One of these palaces is capable of accommodating 600 inhabitants. The morality of the population at Guise is high : there has not been occasion for a single legal proceeding since i860. All the affairs of the Familistère are settled in family. The population forms its own internal police. There is not a child of six years old who cannot read. ^1,200 a year, equal t0 Zi per head of the population, is spent on primary educa­ tion. Here we have a grand example of the truth that social and industrial justice is not social equality ; each receives a return proportionate to his talents or the uses he has made of them; there is no levelling, no spoliation. The arrangement for the repayment of capital provides for renewed youth and activity; there is no law of primogeniture nor entail. A man, because he is the son of his father, is not hoisted into a position he may be utterly unfit for, and which may be distasteful to him. In this, wise economic arrangement we see an embodiment of Christian principle. No matter whatsoever may be our lot, whether it be one of honour, wealth and influence, or of humble service, we are but journeying through life ; we hold what we have, and use the bounties of nature, simply in trust for genera­ tions to follow. How many worn-out and lifeless concerns might one point to that are now an anxiety and a curse to those who have succeeded to them, which, if they had been founded on the principles of M. Godin, would now be full of vigour, activity, and prosperity. Wealth is a trust; if it is not used for the benefit of others it will assuredly be as nothing and flee away ; to tie it up is to suffocate it. It may be interesting in closing a reference to the Familistère at Guise to say that the business carried on there is making cooking and heating apparatus and hardware used for furniture. Other examples of profit-sharing will be found in Mr. Sedley Taylor’s work on Profit-Sharing, published by Messrs. Kegan �THE MA IS ON LECLAIRE, PARIS. 137 Paul, Trench and Co., also in the publications issued by Messrs. Chaix et Cie., Rue Berger, Paris. In the department of the Seine there are upwards of fifty co-operative workmens’ associations. Before leaving this part of our subject, I would like to refer to the Maison Leclaire, for by so doing I might, perchance, interest some reader possessed of opportunity to follow in Leclaire’s footsteps ; or maybe some working-men, hitherto un­ acquainted with such noble examples of the advantages of association and co-operation of labour and capital as are to be found in the Familistère at Guise and the Maison Leclaire, may be influenced to reflect on this new light, this higher life in the industrial world, and induced to work out some practical results. At the age of seventeen Leclaire arrived in Paris, penniless and without a friend; he apprenticed himself to a house-painter ; at twenty-six years of age he started on his own account. He soon made a reputation for excellence of work, and was recog­ nised as a leader in his trade. In 1835 a friend told Leclaire that he saw no way of getting rid of the antagonism which existed between workman and master except the participation of the workman in the profits of the master. So great an impression did this make on Leclaire’s mind, for seven years he was cogitating a plan for giving effect to the idea. In 1842 he announced his intention of dividing part of the profits amongst a certain number of his workers. As in the case of M. Godin at Guise, mistrust at first seized hold of the workmen. Some could not but believe that it was a far-fetched scheme for reducing their wages. Leclaire, however, gave an ocular and practical demonstration of his meaning. Calling those of his workmen together who were to share in the profits, he placed upon the table a bag of money containing 11,886 francs (about ^475), and there and then distributed to each his share, averaging more than ^10 per worker. After that there was no doubt­ ing his meaning or purpose. Mistrust gave place to con­ fidence. �138 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. Leclaire’s experience in inaugurating the principle of profitsharing was almost the same as M. Godin experienced thirty years later. M. Godin relates his experience as follows :— “ An illiterate population, living in the country, and accus­ tomed to a certain daily work, was clearly not prepared for ideas of association so largely conceived. Men came and told these people that I wanted to entrap them, to condemn them to slavery, that my promises were only lies. You know what the human mind is. Doubt and bewilderment got such a hold on their minds, that at the time of the first division, before the society was constituted, when I offered to share more than ^4,000 with the workers—£& to one, ^12 to another—the majority of them refused. As the day when the division was to be made came round, their heads had been turned; they came to say, ‘We don’t know why this is given us.’ I put the orders back in my safe, and subsequently the workers came one after another to ask for them. The idea had been comprehended, and afterwards the association was founded without difficulty. The sum divided has grown since then from ^4,000 to ^40,000. You will see by this that the body of workers have opened their eyes and become eager to be associated.” When Leclaire announced his intention of dividing profits, the newspaper IJAtelier accused him, as M. Godin was after­ wards accused, of manoeuvring in this way to reduce wages; his promises, it said, were only lies; but Leclaire, as did also M. Godin, lived down this obloquy, and survived to see a mighty influence in the friendly and co-operative relations of capital and labour firmly established. In 1838 Leclaire established a Mutual Aid Society: it derived its funds from monthly subscriptions of the workers who became members. The original statutes of the society provided that a division of its funds might be demanded at the end of fifteen years from the date of its foundation. In 1853 a liquidation took place, but the society was reconstituted, and from that time the funds of the society have been chiefly drawn from a share in the profits given by the firm at its usual stocktaking. �CONSTITUTION OF THE MAISON LECLAIRE. 139 The Mutual Aid Society forms an insurance and superannua­ tion fund, and has now a capital of 1,500,000 francs (^60,000) ; its income from investments, &c., is 60,000 francs (^2,400) in. addition to 25 percent, of the profits from the business. An associate member of the house is entitled to an interest in the Mutual Aid Fund giving him a pension of 1,200 francs (^48) per year on attaining the age of fifty, or after twenty years’ work in the house. The widow of an associate receives 600 francs (^24) a year for her life. In 1882 there were 51 pensioners receiving an aggregate of ^2,060 per annum from the * society. Leclaire died in 1872 but so perfect were the arrangements made for the continuity of the house, it has prospered and flourished since he ceased to take any active part. Its con­ stitution is of a twofold nature. First, there is the commercial * The Mutual Aid Society in the 'Maison Leclaire, the Assurance Fund ot the Familistère at Guise, and similar funds that have been established in several French working-men’s societies and profit-sharing houses, is but the reproduc­ tion of one of the leading features of the ancient guilds. Historians agree that the ancient trade and craft guilds were founded as benefit societies for mutual helpfulness and friendly encouragement. In the Report of the Royal Commis­ sion on the City of London Companies,'we read—“The provincial guilds of England, in the reign of Richard IL, seem to have been associations of neigh­ bours, or of members of the same trade, which assembled for the purposes of common worship and feasting, and which served—to borrow the language of modern life—as benefit societies and burial clubs. They were also private tribunals for the settlement of disputes, and the craft guilds seminaries of techni­ cal education. The incomes of all the guilds were, up to a certain point, ex­ pended in the same way—viz., the maintenance of the hall, the expense of feasting, the payment of salaries, the relief of poor members, and of the widows and orphans of poor members, the finding of portions for poor maids, and the payments for funerals and obits ; the funds were also applied to the binding of apprentices, to loans to young men starting business, the purchase of new receipts and inventions, and the prevention of adulteration. Both social and craft guilds also relieved the poor. ” The work the associations of capital and labour are now doing in France could not be more accurately described than the work the old trade and craft guilds sought to do in their day is described in the Report of the City Companies’ Commission. The guiding principles of the ancient and modern associations are co-operative action and mutual help­ fulness ; the method of applying these must of necessity be different now to what it was in the Middle Ages, but the principles are nevertheless the same. �140 DISTR/BUTTON REFORM. part of the institution, and then the Mutual Aid Society. Each, though closely connected, may be worked separately and independently of each other. The capital of the house is ;£i6,ooo, half of which is held by the two managing partners, the other half by the society which is the collective embodi­ ment of the workers. There is also a reserve fund of 100,000 francs (¿£4,000;, which has been formed by a- retention of 10 per cent, of the annual profits. The Mutual Aid Society possesses, as I have already shown, a capital of ¿£60,000, of which one-third is invested in securities guaranteed by the State, and two-thirds lent upon interest to the house. The two managing partners receive £240 each per annum, as salaries for superintendence and management; they receive interest at five per cent, for their capital. The society receives the same on its capital. Twenty-five per cent., or one quarter of the nett profits, go to the two managing partners conjointly. Seventyfive per cent., or three-quarters of the nett profits, is allotted to the workers; twenty-five per cent, of this is placed to the pension fund in the Mutual Aid Society, and fifty per cent, is paid in cash each year to the workers according to their respective earnings. The workers do not individually partici­ pate in losses, but they do so collectively, for in the name of the Society they have large investments in the business, and also provide half the capital. The share in profits averages about £16 a year for the regular workman, constantly employed, but if a man works only an hour, he receives his fraction of the profits. Either in cash bonuses, or contributions to the Mutual Aid Society, from 1842 to 1882 inclusive, no less a sum than ¿£133,045 was paid out of profits for the benefit of the workers. The yearly turn­ over at the time of Leclaire’s death in 1872 was ¿£80,000 ; in 1882 it had reached ^125,580. There are 400 workers employed, 126 of whom have an interest in the Mutual Aid Pension Fund. The workers annu­ ally nominate two delegates, who go through the accounts and see the profits are divided according to the rules of the associ- �LECLAIRE'S CONFESSION OF FAITH. I41 ation. The results, morally and economically, of this method of association and participation in profits have been marvellous. The workers know that it is their interest to do their work well, to be careful of tools, and prevent all possible waste. If they do their work efficiently, they know the reputation of the house is kept up, and further work ensured ; if they are careful of tools and economise at all points, they know there will be a greater amount of profit to divide. Before the commencement of the participation, forty per cent, of the workers did not work on Mondays, and drank excessively; this number does not now exceed one per cent. The members are jealous of their character for morality and honesty; any worker or associate guilty of immorality is at once excluded. Leclaire’s life was a success from a worldly point of view; he attained to a position of influence and comparative wealth. In 1865, he wrote, “I maintain that if I had gone on in the beaten track of routine, I could not have arrived, even by fraudulent means, at a position comparable to that which I have made for myself.” Although he made no profession of faith in any of the dogmas of any Christian sect, when in sight of death he made the following grand confession of faith and duty:—“ I believe in the God who has written in our hearts the law of duty, the law of progress, the law of sacrifice of one’s self for others; I submit myself to His will, and bow before the mysteries of His power, and of our destiny. I am the humble disciple of Him who has told us to do to others what we would have others do to us, and to love our neighbour as ourselves. It is in this sense that I desire to remain a Christian until my last breath.” * I might give further proofs of the success, from whatsoever point of view it may be looked at, of the principle of associa­ tion of capital and labour by what is known as “ participation,” by referring to the Co-operative Paper Mill at Angouleme, employing 1,500 workers; to the Parisian Cabinet-Makers, * See Mr. Sedley Taylor’s “ Profit-Sharing,” p. 25. �142 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. Limited, with 215 workers; to the Association of Working Tailors, the Association of Cabdrivers, the Association of Tinworkers, and to the printing house of A. Chaix et Cie.; and to numerous other convincing proofs of the power and efficacy of the principle of association, all clearly showing that when once the interests of master and workman, of capital and labour, are made mutual in the only way they can be so made—namely, by mutually sharing the profits of their conjoint labour—the results achieved are increased production and superior workmanship, less waste, and an all-round effort to achieve success. These various forms of association in productive enterprise, which the French Legislative Chamber, French statesmen, and French employers of labour now appreciate as a fulcrum for levering the workmen into a higher social life, and for smoothing the hitherto rugged pathway along which capital and labour must—whether amicably or in a hostile spirit—■ travel together, are—in a modernised and more economically efficient form—reproductions of the ancient village community, or the brotherhood of the mediaeval trade and craft guilds. They accomplish, by no greater power than that of moral union, what the ancient communities and guilds sought to attain by force of law. The ancient and the modern associations, how­ ever, all acknowledge that man doth not live to himself alone. Prosperity'and happiness are most assured by abnegation of self. Society is an aggregation of individuals : there can be no real nor lengthened happiness to the true man if the society or community in which he lives is not prosperous and happy; therefore the good of self is only to be found in seeking to promote and secure the well-being of the community. In these associations we find no trace of the brutal law of the fittest surviving, nor do we see an ill-regulated scramble for wealth. We find well-organised systems suited to the various trades, in which work, intellect, and capital are rewarded according to their respective merits and productiveness. We find a provision made for old age and �EMANCIPATION OF LABOUR. 143 a shield and protection for the widow and the fatherless—the workmen are not left to be fleeced and swindled by Friendly Societies, which prey upon the pockets and work upon the ignorance of the uneducated and unbefriended workman, as many of our English Friendly Societies do. * In these associations the workman is insured out of profits, and his means of subsistence are not reduced; as a matter of fact, he is insured out of his own increased pro­ ductiveness ; the insurance fund is managed without exorbitant commissions and fees—these run away with half the premiums in many English Workmen’s Friendly Societies. England boasts of being the home of free trade, of liberty, justice, and enlightenment—the working-man’s paradise. The great princes of industry in England have much to learn from France, much to learn of their duty to their fellow-men, of the obligations of capital. Amid all the great names in English industrial enterprise —although many have made fortunes of millions, and some, after attaining success in commercial life, have been honoured in the political world—there is not one that will be esteemed so highly in future generations for having done noble deeds and Christian service in the business world, as Leclaire of Paris, and Godin of Guise. The first step in the emancipation and freedom of labour must be made in the economy and organization of distribution; if there is useless expenditure and waste in the process of distribution, it is undoubtedly a tax on production and con­ sumption. In the associations for. distribution, the organizations of which I have explained, and their federal association with pro* It is a deplorable fact that many Friendly Societies are irretrievably insolvent; in some cases the expenses amount to seventy per cent, of the income; the directors and agents swallow up three-farthings of every penny contributed. There are exceptions to this disastrous condition of affairs, but as in the solvent societies the branch lodges are mostly held in public­ houses, the members have the temptation to spend as much or more in drink as they do in a provision for sickness or death. �144 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. ductive establishments founded on the principles of association of capital and labour, such as I have shown exist in the Familistère at Guise and Maison Leclaire in Paris, and many other industrial foundations in France, labour will be freed and receive its fair share of the proceeds of its industry, the yoke will be easy, the burden lightened. Despite the now historical case of the Messrs. Briggs at the Whitwood Collieries, Messrs. Fox, Head and Co., Sir W. Armstrong, and other spasmodic and weak attempts to form industrial partnerships, we have not yet had tried in England a solid and well-determined plan of association of capital and labour in productive enterprise. In every case there has been clearly visible the elements of future shipwreck j the plans have not been thoroughly mutual : labour has not received its fair share in the councils, nor its equitable participation in the profits j the interests not being mutual, the first little storm has laid bare the want of confidence in each other. In the federal combination of the two forms of association which I have described, I venture to submit that we should have an automatic system of general co-operation which Robert Owen, Fourrier, Mario, and the earlier advocates of association and co-operation would have supported, which more recent but, alas ! now departed economists, like Mill, Fawcett, and Jevons, would have pleaded for, and which the great body of living and energetic co-operators and social reformers must support if they remain true to their professions. At the Co-operative Congress at Oldham, one of the French delegates who had been deputed by French co-operators to express their good-will to their English fellow-workers in the cause of the social elevation of labour, was reported to have said that “ the English co-operative societies, being engaged chiefly in dis­ tributive enterprise, were taking the bull by the horns : they in France, having devoted their efforts to co-operative association in production, were taking it by the tail ; ” but the animal to be put under proper control requires to be taken bodily. This �MR. JOHN BRIGHT AND FREE LABOUR. 145 federal union of morality and economy in distribution, and justice and equity in production will, I maintain, give freedom to labour and justice to every interest concerned in that which makes up the social and industrial economy. In a speech made at a dinner given in celebration of American Independence on July 5th, 1885, Mr. John Bright, M.P., is reported to have said :—“ I hope the time will come when there will be another Independence Day in the United States, not to free bodies of white and black men, but to free permanently and as freely as I believe we have done in this country, the labour of the whole poptilation. I want the two nations to be one people. I want them to be foremost in political and religious freedom. I want, also, and hope the time will come when there will be that other freedom which the States may be as proud of as the great bulk of Englishmen are of the freedom we have achieved.” In these two sentences we have a clear repetition and state­ ment of the error Mr. Bright and his free-trade friends seem incapable of dispelling from their minds. The bulk of English­ men are proud of the labour and achievements of Cobden and Bright and their associates, in the agitation for the Repeal of the Corn Laws, and for their advocacy of customs’ reforms and free imports ; but to suppose that the removal of customs’ duties on many articles has been the emancipation and freedom of labour, is a grievous mistake. Can labour be called free, when it works for starvation wages? Can labour be free, when thousands are willing to work but cannot find employment ? Is labour free, when there is land that needs cultivation but the labourer is not allowed to work it? According to Lord Thurlow, the labourer is left to starve, yet all the while if he was free to labour nature he might produce for himself enough and to spare. Can labour be free, when the industrial labourers receive an unjust share ot the proceeds of their labour? Can labour be free, when be­ tween the producer and the consumer there is a tax — an unnecessary tax—for distribution, amounting to at least ¿£200,000,000 per annum more than is natural and necessary? K �146 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. Ask the half-timers, the children who work in factories for 3s. per week of 28 hours’ labour, equal to one penny-farthing per hour. Ask the youths engaged in spinning, who earn 9s. per week for 56 hours of work : about twopence per hour. Ask the weaver who earns 14s. a week for weaving no yards of a certain kind of dress stuff, equal to about i|d. per yard; if for her own consumption she buys back the production she has helped to make, she has to pay to the distributors a profit of is. 6d. per yard, that is, twelve times the amount of her wages. Ask the seamstress earning 8s. per week, the slop-tailor, the matchbox-maker, the agricultural labourer earning his 10s. to 12s. a week. Agricultural labourers earning 12s. a week pay 3s. a week for rent and is. a week for school fees; on the 8s. remaining they have to support a wife and family of three or four children. In giving the 8s. in exchange for food and clothing, they are mulcted in a usurious rate of profit or cost of distribution to the tune of 50 to 100 per cent.; when 10 per cent, would be more than sufficient for the necessary cost of making the exchange. The owners of the land live wantonly on their toil, the middlemen who exchange their products grow rich and are clothed luxuriously, whilst they are in rags. If this is not “ oppressing an hired servant that is poor and needy,” what can be ? Where is freedom in such labour ? It is such as these that constitute the great industrial army that is the making of England. If you ask them, they will tell you their labour is too free: too free in the giving of the labour, and too scant in getting their fair share of the proceeds. It is by the exchange of each others’ labour the social circle is completed; the exchange should be for their mutual benefit, but it is performed for their mutual disadvan­ tage: for the exchange of their productions, even after the capital employed in production has had its reward, the labourers have to pay a usury of not less than 50 per cent.—more fre­ quently it is 100 per cent. With the bulk of labourers it is a constant struggle for existence. The sellers of their labour and distributors of the productions grow rich-and live in luxury; �IS LABOUR YET EMANCIPATED IN ENGLAND ? 147 the labourers are habitually poor, content with the barest means of subsistence. From the paper I have already quoted, read by Mr. MacDougall on the causes of pauperism in Manchester, it appears that in the Manchester Union 8f per cent, of the population were in receipt of relief for longer or shorter periods during 1884. The astounding fact was brought to light that one death in every six was that of a pauper. This points, says Mr. MacDougall, to the conclusion that a large number of the inhabitants have no resources for support and medical treatment during serious illness. This pauperism is, moreover, proved to be non-hereditary, only two per cent, can be traced to hereditary taint. Thus, in Manchester, the home of free trade—and therefore, according to Mr. Bright, it should be the home of free labour—one in eleven of the population is a pauper receiving parish relief, and one in six of the population dies a pauper’s death—rather a sad condition this for free labour ! How, then, can Mr. Bright say we have freed labour ? In the United States, under the pretence of protection to native labour, they put excessive import duties on foreign productions. In this country, as a first step to freedom of labour, we have removed most of our previous import duties ; but neither in the United States is labour protected, nor is it in this country free, for in both cases it is mulcted in unnecessary charges, and pri­ vileged classes exact toll of it. The evils in the English system may be less than in the United States, but it is only a question of degree. In customs duties from 1840 to 1883 inclusive, the amount of customs duty repealed in the United Kingdom was ^29,405,679; the amount of new duties imposed or old duties increased was ^5,020,450; giving a net total reduction during the whole period of forty-four years of ^24,385,229. This is all the reduction in the direction of free imports that the freetrade policy has made. In lieu of this reduction in customs k 2 �148 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. duties, internal taxes, direct and indirect, have to some extent been imposed and increased. I am cognisant of the fact that the benefit of free imports and tariff reforms is not to be measured solely by the amount of the reductions made in the customs tariff; the benefits are indirectly shown in the increased volume of trade. I readily admit these benefits; but say it is a misnomer to call the removal of customs duties the consummation of free trade and the entire freedom of labour. I have before stated that the principle of free trade is based on the law of natural value. If a person buys an article for consumption on which an import duty of ten per cent, has been imposed, and for which a profit or charge of fifty per cent, was also made for distribution, it is clear the ten per cent, for the import duty made the article so much dearer than its natural value, and if the legitimate cost of distribution could have been covered for thirty per cent, less than was charged, it is also clear that besides the import duty of ten per cent, the consumer also paid twenty per cent, more than the natural price. Distribution, as I have striven to show, is but a part of pro­ duction. When the cost of distribution is unnecessarily great, then it is as pernicious and as much a tax on commodities, a restriction upon production and labour, as any customs duty. A reform in the process of distribution would confer as great if not greater benefits on the people than the removal of import duties has conferred. Like the reform in customs tariffs, the benefits would not only be seen in the amount saved (and the saving would far exceed the reduction of import duties), but would be of greater benefit in the increased consumption it would create, and the wider diffusion of employment such in­ crease would occasion. Until this reform is made in distribu­ tion labour cannot be free ; until then it will not receive its fair reward. It may be satisfactory to Mr. Bright to think the removal of import duties has freed labour, it may be satisfactory to those who have made enormous fortunes since the commencement of �A FREE BREAKFAST TABLE. 149 the free-trade policy, but it won’t do for the student of economics nor will it stand the criticism of the future historian of this period of industrial and national history. The most powerful argument now in the hands of the freetrade politicians is the waste and destruction of wealth in the military systems of Europe. The estimated army and navy expenditure for 1884 of the whole of the European powers was ;£i 71,514,740. It is a favourite argument with free-trade poli­ ticians that it is in the waste of this sum expended in non­ productive labour, taken by taxation out of the results of industry, we have one of the greatest causes of trade depression. But it never strikes these gentlemen that in our own country we have a yearly waste in the distribution of the necessaries of life equal to the whole annual naval and military expenditure of “ burdened Europe ; ”—the one is just as much a tax on industry as the other. We may agree with these gentlemen that this martial expenditure is wasteful and depres­ sive of trade and industry we may join with them in advo­ cating its reduction and abolition ; but are not the greatest of virtues the domestic ones ? Here at home, within our control, we have a waste of wealth, a tax on industry, as great as that which we complain of in the warlike expenditure of the powers of Europe. We plead for the abolition of the latter on the principles of peace and goodwill amongst the nations; but by practising peace and goodwill in our own social and industrial organisations, we may speedily remove as great a burden as we complain of. To preach to foreign nations on their internal policy is a presumptuous proceeding, very likely to be resented. If the disciples of the apostle of peace and brotherly love will set to work to remove this domestic burden, the load of trade depres­ sion will be removed. A greater amount of practical good will be accomplished in five years, than preaching for twenty years to foreign nations on their military policy will accomplish. It is as futile to talk of a free breakfast table as it is to represent that we have freed labour by removing import duties, �I5o distribution rd form. for neither a free breakfast table nor free labour can exist until distribution is reformed and freed from its present waste and costliness, and, I must also add, the usurious spirit actu­ ating those engaged in it. Representations are made to the effect that a free breakfast table would exist if the remain­ ing customs duties on articles of food were repealed; in bur customs tariff, the requisites for a free breakfast table on which import duties are now imposed are tea, coffee, chicory, and dried fruits; the revenue raised on tea is ^£4,000,000 a year, this sum is added to the cost; I am assured by a gentleman of great experience in the tea trade, that the price consumers pay averages not less than 50 per cent, more than the price at which the tea leaves the custom house, after prime cost, duty, and all charges are added ; there­ fore, consumers have to pay the dealers a profit of £2,000,000 on the £4,000,000 of duty, which they, (the dealers) pay the government in other words, instead of the tax being ,£4,000,000 as it nominally appears, it is really a tax of £6,000,000. In like manner we pay a nominal duty on imported tobacco and snuff of £8,900,000 a year, but snuff­ takers and smokers are really taxed £12,000,000, for to the duty of ,£8,900,000 must be added the profit thereon ot distributors. Suppose the customs duty on tea and every food requisite was removed and absolutely abolished, it by no means follows we should then secure a free breakfast table, for so long as the cost of distributing these requisites and the cost of exchanging them was 30 per cent, more than is necessary, just so long would the breakfast table be taxed; there is no difference whatever between taxation by customs duty and taxation by exorbitant charges and unnecessary cost in distribution ; they both raise prices, both are a tax on labour, and have to be paid for out of the proceeds of labour. Speaking of customs duties and taxation leads me to make a digression, briefly referring to the question of taxation in general. Reform in distribution will not be complete until all �DIRECT TAXATION AND DISTRIBUTION REFORM. I5I indirect taxes are abolished, and the expenses of government raised by direct taxation; there is an enormous waste in indirect taxation, not only in the cost of collection, but also in the indirect way it increases the cost of necessaries. I hope to see the time when all customs duties will be abolished, and our ports made free to receive, without let or hindrance, all foreign produce we require ; so soon as distribution is done associatively for the benefit of producers and consumers, then shall we be ready for this sweeping customs reform. With a thorough reform in local government and one sole rating authority constituted in every district, I do not see why the imperial government should not, after the votes have been passed by the House of Commons, make precepts on each local authority for its proportion of the national expenditure. School-boards now receive their funds, in so far as they are raised from local rates, after this fashion, by making precepts on the constituted local authorities. If we had one rating authority in each local district it would levy its rates under various headings; for instance, there would be the rate required by the local government for sanitary and general purposes, then the poor rate, and after that the imperial rate.The rateable value of the whole country would be ascertained, the imperial expenses would be so much in the pound, and each local district would be called upon for its proportion. Besides legacy and succession duties, and stamp duties, taxation would come directly from owners and occupiers of property; licensing laws, and the regulation of the drink traffic left entirely in the hands of local authorities, there would be no overlapping of tax-collectors, customs and inland-revenue officers. The question of taxation is large enough to occupy a volume to itself. I cannot now further enter into it; what I wish to point out is that if distribution was reformed, wealth would be more equitably distributed, and direct taxation could be adopted more readily and with greater justice. Direct taxation would be the best security for economy, a double check would be made on extravagant expenditure, whether �152 D/S Tk'/DU’TION REFORM. local or imperial, costly wars would not be lightly entered upon, and wasteful military and naval expenditure would be closely scrutinised. Apologising to the reader for this digression, and also for what may appear a digression in an inquiry into what capital consists of, we will proceed to sum up the benefits to be gained by a thorough reform in distribution, such as in previous pages we have been advocating. That which we call capital is not money, nor gold, for there is not as much gold in the whole world as the capital value of one of our largest cities. The ancients used a more accurate and expressive term : what we call capital they called goods. The early English economists called it stock. The capital of an agriculturist consists in land, buildings, cattle, produce, and implements; that of a manufacturer in land, buildings, machinery, cotton or wool, yarn, or manufac­ tured goods. If you invest money in a railway, you do not invest it in gold or money ; your investment consists of car­ riages or engines, rails or land or buildings. Money is simply the measure of exchange. Bankers who deal in money are mediums of exchange ; through them differences in values of exchange are settled. One pound in gold is sufficient to settle the difference in exchange of ^500 worth of goods. Bankers, besides being mediums of exchange and agents for the collection and payment of debts, are also “engines of credit;” it is only as mediums of exchange and agents for collection and payment of debts I have here to deal with them : these are the bankers’ legitimate functions. The more capital is employed in direct production and distribution without the employment of any intermediate agency of credit, and the more banks are restricted to their proper functions as mediums of exchange and agents for payment and collection of debts, the better it will be for the stability of commercial and industrial affairs. I know a village where ¿£80 in coinage pays ¿£4,000 a year in wages. The workers, on getting their weekly wages, take them to thè village store in exchange for provisions and clothing �WIIAT IS CAPITAL"? 153 the manufacturer employing the labour gives a cheque to the storekeeper every week for ^80, and gets, week after week, the self-same coins. The storekeeper hands the cheque to his banker, and against it draws cheques in payment for goods which he has bought in various parts. These cheques find their way to the Bankers’ Clearing-houses in London or Man­ chester ; the cheque of one dealer or trader is set off against another. A few pounds in coinage settles the difference in transactions of thousands. The process goes on ad infinitum ; in twenty years, allowing for wear and tear of the coins, the same ^80 would pay ^80,000 in wages. But this is not all : the manufacturer pays his debts to the people he buys from in cheques or bills, and is paid by the parties he sells to in like manner; bankers take these cheques and bills, and thus become the agents for collection and payment of debts; therefore, besides the ^80 wanted in coins for payment of wages, and the cash the manufacturer requires for his personal expenses, and the small amount of coinage required by the bankers for the settlement of differences in clearing the cheques and bills, there is very little money dealt in; the manufacturer for his personal expenses may use the same coins over and over again, so will the bankers use the identical coins many times in payments and repayments of differences; we may, therefore, safely say ^120 in money, coins, or cash, is all that is needed to do the turn-over of the manufacturer, which may be taken at ^20,000 a year. The same >£120 in cash serves not only for one, but ten, twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty years and more, so that in fifty years (with a little wear and tear to be allowed for) ^120 in coins or money suffices for the conducting of a business, the payment of wages, and every process of buying, and selling, and exchange, of an aggregate turn-over of ^1,000,000. This is a small illustration of what is going on in the whole of the transactions of the country. A little reflection will show what a small part actual money really plays in the making of what we call capital. �154 D/S TRIBUTION REFORM. Therefore, when we speak of a great increase in capital, we simply mean a great increase of goods; when we talk of an accumulation of capital, we really mean an accumulation of goods ; when we talk of a glut of capital, we ought to say a glut of goods ; when we say there is over-production, we simply imply there are more goods being made than the owners thereof will allow to be consumed, for they cannot get what they consider an equitable exchange. If some large public works are to be constructed—such, for example, as large docks, railways, or waterworks — at an estimated cost of £1,000,000, it is customary for us to say one million of money will be spent on them ; as a matter of fact, no money whatever is spent. If, instead of saying ¿£1,000,000 would be spent on them, or invested therein, we were to say the workers employed in constructing the works would consume goods of, say, the measurable value of ¿£750,000, and also use other goods of the measurable value of, say ¿£250,000, we should get a clearer idea of what actually happened; ¿£4,000 in cash would be all the money required and all that would be used throughout the gigantic operation. This sum would pay and repay the workers' wages times without number, and would remain in existence after the whole of the works were completed. There would not be ¿£1,000,000 of money invested in the works, there would simply be goods of the measurable value of ¿£250,000 trans­ ferred thereto, and labour of the measurable value of ¿£750,000 put therein. The said goods would be the savings of past labour. So, too, the goods the labourers consumed during the construction would be goods the results of savings from some previous labour. The investment of the proprietors or shareholders would therefore consist, not in money—for the whole of the money required during the construction of the works would be in existence after they were finished and paid for—but in the value of the works, which would represent merely so much labour. The ¿£4,000 in cash employed would merely be the �MONEY A MEASURE OF EXCHANGE. I $5 measure of exchange between the labourers and the investors who were allowing goods of past accumulation to be consumed by the labourers. The investment they would get in return would be the docks or railway, which would be the results of the work of the labourers, thereafter to be called “capital.” The ^4,000 in cash, as I have before said, after being the measure of exchange, would be in existence after the works of the measurable value of ^1,000,000 were completed. If we have a right conception of what capital is, and what it consists of, we shall have a clearer idea of the importance ot its distribution. If we were to say that goods must be more equitably distributed, instead of saying that capital must be more equitably distributed, the human mind would at once grasp its full meaning ; the importance of distribution in all its varied functions would at once be seen. The foundation and origin of the English system of weights was the grain of corn : so many grains of corn were taken to make up so many ounces, and so many ounces made a pound. The pound weight was the measure of exchange between corn and any other commodity. The pound sterling is also but a measure of exchange; of itself it is not wealth; it represents a given quantity of goods, and measures the relative values of articles. Just as in primitive times it was demanded for the safety and protection of the community that weights and measures should be attested and stamped by an official—for by that means it was known that the pound weight actually represented so many grains of corn—so to-day I ask that distribution and exchange between man and man shall have the moral protec­ tion of the collective interests of all, that we should not simply rely on the stamped gold, which is after all only somewhat of a token, but upon a higher standard of exchange which shall take cognizance of actual services rendered and work done. If, then, we rightly conceive that capital consists of goods, land, buildings, or machinery—in other words, in what we live in, on, or by—and that money is only a valuable and �156 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. convenient measure of exchange, this question of morality and economy in distribution and exchange will appear of threefold importance ; and as we have previously seen what are the factors in the creation of capital, and now having a true idea of what capital is when created, we may proceed to summa­ rize the advantages to be derived from a thorough reform in the various functions and processes of distribution. The benefits, amongst others, will be :— 1. The prevention of an enormous waste, which is a tax on consumers and a depression and limitation of labour. 2. The possible saving is not less than ^200,000,000 a year, an amount greater than the normal yearly naval and military expenditure of the whole European powers, and twoand-a-half times as much as our normal national expenditure. 3. The possible savings to be made by association for the mutual benefit of producers and consumers in the distribution of goods for home consumption is well-nigh as great as the value of the whole of our exports of home produce and manu­ factures, and far exceeds the value of our exports of textile manufactures. 4. The savings to be made in the cost of distribution would benefit labour by reducing the cost of the necessaries of life, consumption would be increased, and a greater demand for labour created. 5. We should be less dependent for our prosperity on trade with foreign nations. The cries for Fair Trade and Protection would lose their potency, for the distribution of goods being in the hands of producers and consumers for their mutual benefit, they would buy nothing abroad they could produce themselves, but would gladly buy from the foreigner anything necessary for their comfort and happiness, and such things they would desire to have at the cheapest rate, free from all protective duties. The present trade depression would be effectually remedied by increased productiveness and consumption at home. 6. A reform in distribution would ere long reduce the cost of living in this country one-fourth. �BENEFITS OF REFORMS ADVOCATED. • 157 7. A reform in the distribution of goods together with a reform in the distribution of the results of industry, by the mutual association of capital and labour in productive enter­ prise, which a reform in the distribution of goods by the mutual association of producers and consumers for their collective well-being would make much more possible and feasible than hitherto, would tend to the more equitable distribution of wealth, the extremes of excessive wealth and pressing poverty would be moderated, and society elevated. 8. By making distribution a helpmeet to production, and a moral and economic system of exchange, speculation would be discouraged, accumulations of capital or goods wrould be directly employed in increased production; the outcome of further production would be an increase of goods, and a per­ manent tendency to lower prices. 9. Lower prices, which must of necessity follow a wider expansion of civilization, and an increasing knowledge of the arts of industry would, under an economic and moral system of distribution and exchange, be a loss to no one but a benefit to all. Growth of civilization, and an increasing knowledge and use of applied sciences, must bring about an increase of goods. An increase of goods cannot be disastrous, but ought to be a positive gain, giving greater comforts and more leisure to all. If the farmer had to take a lower price for his wheat, he would be compensated by supplying his wants in other articles at proportionately lower prices. If the growers of wool received lower prices for their wool, they would be compensated by purchasing their cloth at proportionately lower rates. If the ironmaster received lower prices for his iron, compensation would be made to him by supplying him with everything he wanted in exchange for his iron at lower rates. If the wages of the workers in the iron trade, the coal trade, or the textile manufactures were reduced because of lower values, they would be more than compensated by the cheapness of pro­ visions and every article necessary to their well-being. If the pwners of land or houses had to accept reduced rents, com­ �i58 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. pensation would be made them in lower prices for everything they needed ; they would in reality be richer than before. io. A reform in distribution would impartially distribute the benefits of lower prices ; under existing systems of individual competition and enterprise, one class becomes rich out of the losses of another, the benefits of lower prices are not distributed for the collective good, the producer is depressed and the consumer extorted. A reform in distribution would make all interests mutual, measure would be given for measure, a spirit of thorough mutual helpfulness and interdependence would actuate the whole of our social relationships, �CHAPTER XII. Democracy in Government, Oligarchy in Industry—The two Incompatible— The Most Active Advocates of Free Trade Policy the Most Diligent in Bringing about this Inconsistency—Mr. Samuel Morley, M.P., on MoneyBags in Parliament and the Incapacity of their Owners to Take an Intel­ lectual Part in the Work of the House—The Archbishop of York on the Need of Social Reforms—The Representatives of the Oligarchy in Industry in Parliament—Their Public Professions and Private Practice Compared with the Works of Godin and Leclaire—Private Enterprise and In­ dividual Effort Compared with Collective Enterprise—It is by Collective Enterprise in Public Works that our Artificial Civilisation is made Possible —The Waste and Costliness of Distribution by Private Enterprise Com­ pared with Possible Saving and Economy of Associative Distribution—Past Class Legislation and Depression of the Labourers—Recent Legislation in the Repeal of Old Laws Favouring Employers, and the Enactment of New Laws Protecting the Community against the Encroachments of Private Enterprise. In the friendly and amicable understanding arrived at for drafting and passing through both Houses of Parliament the bills for the extension of the franchise to every householder in the country and for redistribution of seats, each of the great political parties—Liberals and Conservatives alike—have ad­ mitted that the government of the nation and its destinies may be entrusted to the democracy. In a democratic form of government the power is in the hands of the many; its security rests on the assumption that the collective interests and rights of the many are greater collectively than those of any one person or of a few persons; and as the end aimed at in government is good, the greatest good, the happiness of all, is particularly the end of good government, and this end the democratic form of government, public opinion in this country has unmistakably expressed the conviction, is best calculated to secure. The oligarchic is that form of government which is the direct opposite of the democratic. In an oligarchy the govern­ �i6o DIS TRIB UTION REFORM. ment is in the hands of a few individuals, the supreme power is lodged with the rich, the privileged few. Mediaeval England illustrates the oligarchic, the constitutional government of the United States the democratic, form of government. The rule of the Stuarts, as compared with the Commonwealth, may be taken as another illustration in principle, whatever may have been the shortcomings of the latter in practice. In England we have this century seen a great extension of democratic principles in government. In the agitation preceding the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832, the stirring times of the agitation for the Repeal of the Corn Laws, and for the removal of the shackles that fettered industry, the passing of the Reform Bill of 1867, and more recently the agitation for extending county franchise, and the agitation that came out of it in the autumn of 1884 for the reform of the House of Lords—the flag of liberty has often been unfurled, the rights of man pro­ claimed, and the everlasting principle of justice expounded. Notwithstanding all this progress of liberty, freedom, and justice in political affairs, in constitutional government, imperial and municipal, there has contemporaneously grown up a contrary spirit in the organization of industrial affairs. In constitutional government we have .now a democracy—the government of the people by the people, but in industry in the business world we have an oligarchy—the government of the many in the hands of the rich and privileged few. The two are inconsistent, and cannot stand together; the social structure erected on so glaring a contradiction of vital principles will be at the best unstable; if the one is true the other must be false. Society is an aggregation of individuals bound together under a form of government for their collective good, and therefore for each individual’s happiness; laws are made for mutual protection and benefit; if, as is admitted, in the demo­ cratic form of government the collective interests of the many are greater than those of the few, and if, as is also admitted, the collective wisdom of the many in seeking their collective good is greater than that of the privileged few ; and if, as both �DEMOCRACY AND OLIGARCHY. 161 political parties have admitted, the people of this country are possessed of moral worth and discernment sufficient to enable them to see in what ways their collective good is most likely to be secured, democracy in government and democracy in indus­ try must go hand-in-hand together. In a perfect state of democratic government legislation must be passive rather than active, for in a people of high moral worth, where in the eyes of the law man is the equal of man, as the democratic principle implies, there will be little law-breaking and therefore little necessity for law-making. The duties of the administrator will be negative rather than aggressive. Social economy in such a state will be founded on the unwritten law—the laws of morality, justice, and truth, of man’s obligation to his fellow man, and mutual helpfulness ; therefore in a democracy industrial organizations are the most important of all. No matter what may be the nominal principles of constitutional government, be they ever so democratic, so full of expressions of freedom and justice, if these principles do not pervade every organization in which men work for their daily bread, social peace and true progress cannot exist. As in political government justice is supposed to hold the balance between class and class, so in everyday life, in the working for the necessaries of life, in the workshop, the factory, and the store, it must be justice that shall allocate to each his share of the proceeds of labour and industry, the sweat of the brow must be rewarded in proportion to the amount of wealth it has created. It was demanded that for the good of the community increased production was needed, but the economies of me­ chanical production, and the gains made thereby, have been appropriated by the few. The oligarchic spirit has prevailed, labour has more and more become the slave of capital accu­ mulated from the proceeds of previous labour. Economies, and new methods of production, which might have been and which ought to have been made conducive to the collective L �IÖ2 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. good of the many, have enriched the few and left the masses little if any better than before. It is an inconsistency which for ever will redound to their discredit, that the most active advocates of the policy of free trade and democracy in government have been most diligent in bringing about this oligarchy in industry ; they have spared no words in denouncing the monopoly of the landed proprietors, but all the while they have practised none of their doctrines in the organization of their own businesses. In the political world it has seemed fit to them to preach up Christian princi­ ples and high moral and humane doctrine, but in the race for wealth their definition of the law of competition has justified them in the formation of “rings,” and the establishment' of customs as despotic and detrimental to the interests of the many as was ever a feudal baron with his prerogatives and despotic power; in their eyes competition in the race for wealth has justified them in depressing wages to the lowest possible limit, in extorting the longest possible number of hours for the least possible pay, and with unblushing effrontery the productions which are the outcome of this depressed labour are sold back to the same labourers at a usury of ioo per cent. When the collective production of the labourers at home has by the aid of machinery been far more than the depressed wages they are paid would allow them to consume, the same oligarchic spirit has made the capitalist manufacturer grumble and complain because foreign nations would not buy his sur­ plus productions on his own oligarchic terms. Mr. Samuel Morley, M.P., in a speech reported in the Daily News, July nth, 1885, said : “his experience had been that most of the Members of Parliament were sent there because they possessed money-bags, and these were absolutely innocent of taking an intelligent and intellectual part in the work of the House.” The Archbishop of York, in a sermon preached August 2nd, 1885, said: “We wanted a new school of politics, which should demand from the representatives of the people not �MONEY-BAGS AND GREAT SOCIAL QUESTIONS. g L ’ 163 dull adherence to the torn skirts of old party traditions, but an earnest insight into great social questions.” The reformed Parliament bids fair to contain as many money-bags as of old; so powerful are the machinations of party politics, the first requisite of a candidate for parliamentary honours must be a dull adherence to the torn skirts of party policy and traditions ; the second requisite is, that he has a money-bag and can pay the cost of the contest and bear those other local and general expenses entailed on a Member of Parliament. Granted these two qualifications, the intellectual requirements Mr. Morley demands are of little consequence, if the member votes straight and according to the wish of the local caucus; it is not necessary he should take an intelligent and intellectual part in the work of the House, nor possess an earnest insight into great social questions. Not long ago I read of a Member of Parliament, in a speech on the Egyptian question, referring to the late General Gordon, saying that Gordon may have been a good man, but to his mind and according to his reading of the Scriptures, it was impossible for a man to be a successful and distinguished soldier and at the same time a good Christian; he for one did not believe in a Christian soldier. The gentleman I refer to is a fair representative of the capitalist radical politician ; he is a large employer of labour, a devoted advocate of free trade, an upholder of the rights of the people, a non-interventionist in foreign affairs, a liberationist, a member of the Peace Society, in fact he is an advocate and supporter of that political party that is for the removal of every monopoly and every abuse, of course excepting any monopoly its members may individually possess ; in their eyes the rights of property in land should be limited and restricted, land must be free, no monopoly; if the exigences of the case demand, the rights of real property must be sacrificed for the good of the community. These are noble sentiments, no doubt, and very attractive, but we never hear of these representatives of the oligarchy in industry saying anything of the rights of the l 2 �164 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. factory operative or of the coal miner, or of the miserable wretches who eke out a living on the starvation wages paid in many branches of industry; but it is out of the labour of these they hold their wealth. It is not for me here to criticise Gordon’s life, nor to say how far he lived a Christian life, nor of the possibility of a success­ ful soldier being a good Christian; but I have read of the great Apostle of Peace saying that it is hardly possible for they that have riches to enter the kingdom of heaven. The most humilia­ ting spectacle we see in public life is the one where representa­ tives of the industrial oligarchy, rolling in the riches accumulated from the toil and labour of their operatives and workers, obtain election to parliament and set themselves up as defenders of the rights of the people, who for the sake of popularity and power are ready to advocate state socialism and many economic fallacies; the hope may be indulged that the day is not far distant when the intelligence of the people will pene­ trate these shams and inconsistencies, and appraise them at their true worth. If those of the class to whom I refer had proved themselves benefactors of their race, if, whilst they had been diligent in business they had served God and their fellow men, and shown a love of equity such as was shown by Leclaire or is being shown by M. Godin, then we might have honoured them as Nature’s noblemen; but in no case do I know of a democratic-capitalist-free-trader-millionaire who has divided his profits with those who have helped to make them ; true, we have cases where charities have been endowed, but we want justice before charity. In the expansion of industry new towns have grown up. In some cases the capitalist manufacturer, to escape the local government of boroughs, and more fully to enforce the oligar­ chic spirit, has built a new hive of industry, and founded a new town in some country spot, away from the heavier taxation and closer supervision of local authorities. Many of such towns and villages have been referred to as model communities, and held up as examples of benevolence and philanthropy; but I �PALEY ON LAWS AND LEGISLATION. 165 can see no benevolence nor philanthropy in buying a large plot of land and building as many houses as could well be crammed on to it, with money borrowed on the security of the land and buildings at four per cent, interest, and charging the tenants, who are also the workers in the mill or foundry, a rental based at the rate of twelve-and-a-half per cent, interest on the capital invested, which was borrowed for the purpose at four per cent. This may be good business, for it makes two profits out of the labourers : one, a profit on their labour in the industry the pro­ prietor is engaged in, the other a profit beyond the current rate of interest on the investment in the houses they must live in— but there is no philanthropy nor self-sacrifice in it. Leclaire and Godin, as I have shown, founded a democracy in their businesses; they gave freely, as a right to their co­ workers, what a few of our English millionaires have scantily given as a charity when they could not take it away beyond the grave. In Socialistic France they bid fair to settle the feud between capital and labour by association and the equitable distribution of the proceeds of their joint production; in England we seem to be running the danger of having Socialistic legislation agitated for by factions that have done most to create the evils they seek to remove. If English radical capitalists had acted in their industrial relationships in the same spirit of democracy which they avow in politics, the evils they seek to redress would never have existed. More is expected of legislation and laws than laws and legis­ lation can do. “ Laws,” as Paley says, “ cannot regulate the wants of mankind, their mode of living, or their desire of those superfluities which fashion, more irresistible than laws, has once introduced into general usage, or, in other words, has erected into necessaries of life. . . . Laws, by their protection, by assuring to the labourer the fruit and profit of his labour, may help to make a people industrious, but without industry the laws cannot provide either subsistence or employment; laws cannot make corn grow without toil and care, or trade flourish without art and diligence.” �166 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. All that need be asked of the law or the legislator is the old Reform cry of “Justice to all, favour to none.” Granted this broad principle of equitable treatment was acted upon, the reforms most calculated to ensure prosperity and progress are to be inaugurated and carried to a successful issue by mutual association, by mutual helpfulness and forbearance; they lie outside the power and function of the legislature. In the patriarchal days it was a custom rigorously observed for the corn in the corners of the field, the odd sheaf, and the gleanings and fallen fruit of the vineyard and the cornfield to be left for the poor ; they enjoyed the privilege as a right, not as a favour. But the greed of modern capitalism leaves not even the sweepings of the floor; in the scramble for wealth, before capital must suffer the labourer must starve. * In this country we have been so much accustomed to hear sung the praises of private enterprise and individual effort, we scarcely ever think of looking at the other side of the question, but as a matter of fact it is collective enterprise that has made the progress we boast of so much. Railways, which have opened up communication and supplied our large towns with food, are the outcome of collective enterprise^ The canals, which preceded the railways, were the work of collective enterprise, and so were many of the roads that gave the means of communication in the olden time. Our waterworks and gas­ works, whether administered by joint-stock companies or muni­ cipal authorities, are the results of conjoint action and collective enterprise ; so, too, are the postal and telegraphic services and our insurance societies ; joint-stock banking, which has done more than all the private enterprise put together to develop our commerce and industry, is the collective employment of the capital of the country. Private enterprise has succeeded on two main grounds, the labour and productiveness of the workers * The right of gleaning existed in many districts in England until very recently. Canon Girdleston says that the use of machinery for cutting and reaping takes up the crops so clean there is nothing left worth gleaning. f In 1883, 2,502 miles of railway were open in the United Kingdom ; the total amount of paid-up capital was ^784,921,312. �SOME RESULTS OF COLLECTIVE ENTERPRISE. 167 on the one hand, and the credit and facilities offered by the banking system on the other. No doubt private enterprise is justly entitled to a fair return for any needful service it renders the community, but in the absence of any standard of measure­ ment or any details of quantities of such services, the public are justified in looking on private enterprise with some mistrust. Joint-stock banking may be said to date from 1834, the time of the establishment of the London and Westminster Bank. The growth and expansion of our commerce and industry has been contemporary with the extension of the col­ lective employment of capital in the joint-stock banks. * It is a most flattering acknowledgment of the success of joint-stock enterprise in banking that private banks have gradually been absorbed or supplanted by them. Messrs. Glyn, Mills and Co. have owned this success, for whilst they are a private bank they now voluntarily publish their balance sheet and accounts as if they were a public company; this for no other purpose than to merit the continued public confidence they have for so long enjoyed and deserved. Gas companies by law are not allowed to pay more than ten per cent dividend on capital; if the profits exceed what is sufficient to pay that amount, the price of gas to consumers must be reduced. Railway companies, By Act of Parliament, * In 1840 four London joint-stock banks—viz., the London and West­ minster, London Joint-Stock, the Union Bank and London and County—held deposits amounting to ¿3,348,188; at the end of 1884 the same four banks held deposits to the amount of ¿72,828,705. The total value of imports and exports in 1840 was ¿118,899,000; in 1883 the value was ¿732,328,649. The amount of deposits in the four principal London joint-stock banks in 1884 was upwards of twenty-one times more than in 1840 ; the total imports and ex ports increased during that period only a little more than six times. On May 16th, 1885, The Economist published a return of 108 joint-stock banks in England and Wales, two in the Isle of Man, ten joint-stock banks in Scotland, and nine in Ireland, showing deposits and current accounts amounting to ¿430,170,590, and paid-up capital of ¿66,376,591. Of these amounts ¿341,585,905 were employed in discount advances, on loans, bills, overdrawn accounts, and other securities. In these figures we have abundant proof of the advantages of the collective employment of capital in joint-stock banking, also the extent to which private enterprise is nursed thereby. �168 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. are bound to run a certain number of trains on every line atone penny per mile per passenger. When this restriction was first imposed it was considered a great hardship on the companies and too liberal a concession to the public; but so enlightened have many of the companies now become, perceiving that seiving the inteiests of the public is the best way of serving their own, they go beyond parliamentary restrictions, and run workmen’s trains and give other facilities much more liberal than the original Act of Parliament insisted upon. In the appoint­ ment of the railway commission, with powers to arbitrate and settle differences as to rates and accommodation, and in many other restrictions which might be named, there is clear evidence that in the opinion of the legislature there is a point beyond which a public company must not go in making a profit out ot the public. If, then, all the great public works that make this artificial civilization possible are the results of collective enterprise, if our railways and docks, postal services, telegraphs and telephones, waterworks and gasworks, banks and insurance companies are the outcome of the co-operative employment of capital, if the blessings of municipal and local government are the outcome of the collective wisdom and co-operative action of local communities, and a modern growth and repro­ duction of the ancient village community, what has been left for private enterprise to do? Private enterprise has mainly been engaged in producing and distributing the necessities and luxuries of life, food, clothing, furniture, etc., and in the erection of buildings. I have previously shown that the consumption of these necessities, food, clothing, and household effects, is not less than 20,000,000 per annum, the cost of distribution by private and individual enterprise is not less than ^240,000,000 per annum. By association for mutual benefit the cost of distribution need not exceed ^40,000,000 per annum. There is, therefore, a waste of ^200,000,000 per annum, which must be debited to private enterprise. Just now I said the �PRIVATE ENTERPRISE AND RECENT LEGISLATION. 169 ^200,000,000 was wasted. It is, in any case, a needless tax on production and an increase of the cost of living which must come from labour. In the waste and useless cost in distribu­ tion hundreds of miles of streets and shops have been built, where one mile would be more than sufficient; the value of property has been risen to a fictitious price because it has been built upon an unreal and unnatural demand, the great depreciation in the value of real property now ex­ perienced is simply the fall to its natural value. I am very certain if natural value is ruled by natural and only necessary demand, values must go much lower. All the capital employed in creating this unnatural and fictitious value has sought its return, firstly in a tax on commodities, but ultimately in a tax on labour. If distribution had been made a helpmeet of production performed by association for the collective good, the increase of wealth would have been employed in increased production founded on a greater consumption, and would have tended to reduce prices, to the great benefit of the whole community. Private enterprise, then, must also be debited with the fictitious value of property andthe tax it imposes on consumers. The legislation of this century may be divided into two classes—first, Acts of Parliament which repealed the statutes of previous class legislation, such, for example, as the repeal of the Conspiracy Laws, which prevented the organization of labourers and made it illegal to establish labour partnerships; the repeal of the laws which empowered magistrates at quarter sessions to fix the wages of labourers in all industries, the abrogation of the law of compulsory apprenticeship, the abrogation of the law of settlement, which, together with the law empowering magistrates to fix wages, made the English workman a slave, tied him to his native village or town, there to work for whatever wages the magistrates, who were his masters, chose to fix as legal. These Acts and others of a similar spirit were the legislation of a faction, the offspring of the privileged few in whose hands the government rested, �170 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. the outcome of private enterprise. The other class of legis­ lation which has this century distinguished the British Parlia­ ment, more particularly since the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832, has been remarkable for the spirit which pervades the numerous Acts of Parliament protecting the rights of the many against the encroachments of private enterprise. The numerous Factory Acts for regulating the hours of labour of women and children, the provisions they make for securing the health of the workers, are most important illustra­ tions of this truth. The causation of these Acts was the brutal inhumanity of private enterprise in working children that should have been on their mothers’ laps, all hours of the day and night for the merest pittance. The provisions of act after act were evaded, and ultimately enforced by the appoint­ ment of inspectors and the vigorous application of the powers conferred on them. Further illustrations of the necessity the legislature saw for the protection of the masses against the gain of private enterprise, may be seen in the Adulteration of Foods Acts, the abolition of the Truck System, the Act enforcing the compulsory testing of weights and measures, the inspection of mines, the Employers’ Liability Act, the Agri­ cultural Holdings Act, but more especially in the Irish Land Acts. The suppression of the slave-trade in the Colonies in 1833 cost this country ^20,000,000, paid as compensation to the slave-owners ; a sad example of the boundless greed that private enterprise will run to in the race for wealth ; it will even traffic in the flesh and blood of its fellow man. The Municipal Corporations Act of 1835 conferred the boon of local self-government. The history of local government is a continuous recitation of the struggles of the collective interests of the many against the privileged few. But for the powers conferred on local government in its embodiment of the collective interest of the many, our towns would be unbearable. The marked improvements that have been made in our pro­ vincial towns, their fairly good sanitary condition and good administration, are grand proofs of the benefits of collective �THE SINS OF PRIVATE ENTERPRISE. I fl enterprise. If they had been left to private enterprise they would have been dens of fever and wretchedness. Abundant proof of this will be found on perusal of the report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes and the evidence given before it. London does not enjoy the benefits of a thoroughly representative system of municipal government. Had it done so, many of the evils the Com­ mission deplore would not have been permitted ; the report of the Commission is a strong condemnation of the outrages perpetrated on the poor by private enterprise. When making improvements for the good of the commu­ nity, local authorities are extorted by private enterprise. Those who doubt this statement will have their doubts removed by reading the Report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes, pages 44 to 49. I he evidence, of Mr. Forwood, Mr. Shaw-Lefevre, Sir Curtis Lampson, Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. Young, and others, convincingly proves that millions sterling have been paid by local authori­ ties to private individuals as compensation, to which they were not morally entitled. In many cases, although the improve­ ment is a benefit to the individual demanding compensation, the community have to pay for the improvement and be extorted in compensation also. Many improvements are not made, for fear of excessive demands that will be made by pri­ vate enterprise. �CHAPTER XIII. Individual Freedom to be Attained by Collective and Mutual Associations— The Moral and Social Condition a Hundred Years Ago—The Progress of Education—the Diminution of Crime—The more Artificial Civilization becomes, the Greater the Need of Education and a More Perfect Social Organization—Von Stein and the Emancipation of the Prussian Peasantry —The Real Wealth of Nations—Conclusion. Individual freedom is the most precious of all liberty ; govern­ ments in ages past, and representative governments in modern times, by the will of majorities in the holy name of liberty have committed crimes and put chains upon the people. In the reforms I have endeavoured to explain, the reforms in distribu­ tion and reforms in production, individual freedom will be extended, the principle of mutual association on which they are founded is untainted by tyranny, the task-master is unknown. Man has been called a social animal ; the higher he rises in civilization the more precious social happiness becomes ; the more highly his mental faculties are cultivated and developed the less inclination has he to suffer any injustice or oppression. The association in distribution and the association of capital and labour in production which I have dwelt upon have for their foundation the closest and dearest of all social ties, the bond of brotherhood, the family tie. This bond of union re­ quires for its enforcement neither sword nor truncheon, nor even statute law. It rests on the highest of all laws, the moral law : man’s duty to man and mutual interdependence and help­ fulness. Doubtless the question will be asked, is the moral elevation of the people sufficiently high, are the masses sufficiently edu­ cated, is the organization of society ripe for such association ? The reply to these objections and questions is that these forms of association, thesej'eforms, are good in themselves, they are �PAST DEGRADATION OF LABOURERS. 173 sound economically, and will succeed on commercial grounds, apart from any moral or social advancement. No man who cares for or thinks of the progress of his fellow-men can help deploring the condition ^of thousands in this country, their degradation, morally and intellectually; but there is moral degradation in the upper and middle classes as great as in what are called the lower orders. If the lower working class or the working classes generally are not what the new ideal of intellec­ tual and moral worth could wish, do not let us forget that the British workman is what society has made him ; let us remember that he is the descendant of that class who in the early centuries of the Christian era was degraded from the collective ownership of the soil into the position of a serf and a vassal. After the Plague, the ancestor of the English workman of to-day was branded on the forehead like a brute, if he refused to work for his lord at wages that would not keep him from starvation, and made to work in chains. By the laws of the Edwards, Henries VII. and VIII., and Elizabeth, in the statute of labourers, the statute of apprentices, the law of settlement and the poor law, the laws empowering magistrates to fix wages, most of which have been abrogated or repealed this century, the English workman was robbed of individual freedom, treated with scarcely so much regard as his superiors treated their cattle—in all this degradation he was left uneducated, and treated as if the Creator had given him no mental faculties. Even, comparatively speaking, a few years ago, all the education the English work­ man was considered to stand in need of was to be able to say Amen after the parson, and make his obeisance to the squire. By degrees, through the growth of morals and Christian teaching, freedom has been extended and more of justice has been seen. It cannot but be wondered at that the moral and intellectual status of the English lower classes is no worse than we now find it; considering the condition of society in the well-to-do and so-called educated classes a hundred years ago, the marvel is that it is so good as it is. We deplore the vice of drunkenness and other debasing �174 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. vices. Dr. Smiles, in his work on “ Thrift,” says :—“ Though drunkenness is bad enough now, it was infinitely worse a hundred years ago. The publicans’ signboards announced ‘You may get drunk for a penny, dead-drunk for twopence, and have clean straw for nothing.’ Drunkenness was con­ sidered a manly vice. To drink deep was the fashion of the day. Six-bottle men were common. Even drunken clergy­ men were not unknown. What were the popular amusements of the people a hundred years ago ? They consisted principally ot man-fighting, dog-fighting, cock-fighting, bull-baiting, badgerdrawing,'the pillory, public whipping, and public executions. Mr. Wyndham vindicated the ruffianism of the Ring in his place in Parliament, and held it up as a school in which Englishmen learnt pluck and the manly art of self-defence. Bull-baiting was perhaps more brutal than prize-fighting, though Wyndham defended it as ‘ calculated to stimulate the noble courage of Englishmen.’ . . One can scarcely imagine the savageness of the sport, the animal mutilations, the imprecations of ruffians, worse than brutes, the ferociousness and drunkenness, the blasphemy and unspeakable horrors of the exhibition. Yet, less than a hundred years ago, on the 24th May, 1802, a Bill for the abolition of bull-baiting was lost in the House of Commons by sixty-four to fifty-one.” Not many years ago the English workman was too often paid his small earnings in the public-house, and every tempta­ tion put before him to spend them there. Within this century the workman was expected to take out his wages at his master’s tally-shop ; in recent years he has been paid the minimum of wages and charged the maximum of an expensive and wasteful system of distribution, when giving those wages in exchange for the necessaries of life; the rental of his house has been raised to a fictitious value. Left without education, without cultivation of his mental faculties to raise him higher than the brute, he has had the temptation ever before him of a public-house at every street corner. Lacking a higher moral culture, the temptation has been too strong; wages which �THE HIGHER LIFE ON EARTH. 175 should have been used to increase the happiness of his home have gone to fatten an indolent class, that never rendered a useful service to the community, but made themselves rich on the ruin of others. I, for one, will not believe that man is the only part of God’s creation that is imperfect. I have faith in man attaining a higher life here on earth. The progress we have made during the past hundred years will, I believe, be as nothing compared with the higher progress that will follow. It is a good augury for the future, considering the darkness, the injustices, and the oppression of the past, that the past was no worse than history proves it to have been, and the present is as good as we find it. There are those who are so satisfied with their own righteousness and culture they scarcely believe in any moral qualities of the masses, as they choose to call those beneath them. They go about bowing their heads like a bulrush, and mourn the unfitness of man for even this worldly life; they believe in no regeneration here on earth. While they mourn their fellow-man’s shortcomings, they take good care to have hold of the money-bags ; they alone are worthy to have posses­ sion of them. Noah, who found grace in the eyes of the Lord, and did all that God commanded him in building the Ark, and who, with his wife and sons and sons’ wives, was saved from the flood, was a direct descendant of the murderer Cain. The most prosperous colonies of the English Crown have been founded by convicts or the immediate descendants of convicts. Poor consolation this for those who insist on the degeneracy of man ! In the treatment of the insane, it has been found that the desire to escape is greatest when locks and keys and severe restraint are used. Also, in the treatment of criminals, the great amelioration in our penal code initiated by Romilly has not been followed by increased criminality but by decreased criminality 5 and the testimonies of those who have had most experience—Maconochie, in Norfolk Island, Dickson, in West- �i?6 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. ern Australia, Obermier, in Germany, Montesinos, in Spain— unite to show that in proportion as the criminal is left to suffer no other penalty than that of maintaining himself under such restraints only as are needful for social safety, the reformation is great, exceeding indeed all anticipation.” * The secret of progress is confidence—there must be con­ fidence between class and class, employer and employed, before we can have social elevation. There cannot be con­ fidence without open-handedness; measure for measure must be given. Morality and publicity must prevail, for they alone can beget confidence; they must hold the balance, and reward each one according to his talents and the use he has made of them in ministering to the well-being and advancement of the community. If the working classes were trusted more, if more confidence was shown in them, the trust would not be misplaced; they are alive to their interests, and instinctively know when and how those interests can be promoted. It is most gratifying to know that crime is decreasing as education becomes more widely diffused. In 1851 there were 132 prisoners in the prisons of England and Wales for every 10,000 of the population. The census of 1881 showed the number had fallen to 107 for every 10,000 persons. In 1851 reformatory and industrial schools were not fully established ; in 1881 no less than 16,856 juveniles were inmates of these schools, being educated and trained as possible useful members of society, whereas, under the old system, they would probably have been driven to crime. In 1869, in the United Kingdom, 26,979 criminal offenders were committed for trial; in 1883 the number had fallen to 20,247—a decrease of 25 per cent. In 1869 there were 19,384 convictions out of those cases committed for trial. In 1883 the number was only 15,001, a decrease of 22 per cent. During this time the population increased from 31 to 36 millions. It may be only fair to add that the strength of the police * Mr. Herbert Spencer's “ Study of Sociology,” p. 13. �educational progress. ¡77 force during the same period increased from 43>i64 m 1869 to 53,330 in 1883. The police force perform many duties not connected with crime ; such, for example, as the regulation of street traffic and attendance at public buildings. . If crime had been on the increase rather than decreasing, the increase in the police force would have resulted in an increased number of committals and convictions. It is the schoolmaster, not the policeman, that has decreased crime; the decrease in the convictions is largely in the juvenile class. In 1869, 10,337 primary schools were inspected; in 1883 the number had doubled, and numbered 21,630. In 1869 the number of children .present at inspection was 1,639,502 ; increased in 1883 to 4,203,902- or upwards of 160 per cent. In 1869 the average number of children in attendance at primary schools in Great Britain was 1,332,786, and in 1883 3,560,351. In 1869 one in twenty-four of the total population of the United Kingdom attended school; at the present time one in every ten goes to school. In 1870 the amount of Parliamentary grants for primary schools in Great Britain was ^840,336 ; in 1884 the sum was no less than three-and-ahalf millions sterling. With educational progress like this, the men and women in the workshop, the foundry, the fields and the factory of twenty years hence will be as highly educated and have as much mental culture as the average middle-class tradesman and manufacturer of to-day. The more mental culture and educa­ tion a people possess, the less inclined are they to suffer any injustice. Can it for a ihoment be supposed the working man of the next generation will quiescently suffer the inequalities in the distribution of the proceeds of his industry which the working man of the past and the present has suffered and is suffering ? “ The competition of the world,” we are told, “ has become a competition of intelligence ; and if we desire the nation to continue first among industrial nations, we must train the people to be foremost in the knowledge of science and ait, M �DISTRIBUTION REFORM. which lies at the root of modern manufacturing industries.” By all means let us have the people trained to the knowledge of arts and sciences; the increased productiveness of the earth, and increased production of man’s labour they give us, clearly point to the conclusion that their use must give to toiling men greater leisure for intellectual pursuits, and time to learn something more than hitherto of the wonders of nature and the mysteries of creation. The spread of knowledge will decrease the power and might of riches. The uses of ma­ chinery, and all the economies that science has given us, make man’s domain over the earth more powerful and complete; obtaining the necessaries of life is no longer the problem, the art of distributing them is now the burning question. Can we for one moment think that working people foremost in the knowledge of science and art will be content to work for semi­ starvation wages, whilst their masters are nursed in the lap of luxury ? Not they, indeed ; people cultured in art and science will know that man does not live by bread alone—that there is a higher duty than the accumulation of riches, and a nobler end. and aim in life than being a mere machine working for other men’s gain. The more artificial the civilization on which a community is built up, the greater need is there of education and a most perfect social organization. British civilization is the most artificial the world has ever seen. In these Isles we have a greater disparity between the population and the produce of the soil than was ever known before, greater extremes of poverty and wealth, the population is concentrated in large towns to such an extent no parallel is to be found in history. Living as we do in a less natural way than our forefathers, it behoves us to exercise a greater wisdom in our social organisms. It is because of this that I ask a serious consider­ ation of the reforms I have endeavoured to set forth. In 1807, when Prussia was at the feet of the first Napoleon, Von Stein came forth and expounded to his countrymen his plan for emancipating it and giving freedom and liberty to the �VON STEIN AND PRUSSIAN LIBERTY. 179 people. “ What the State loses,” said Von Stein, “ in extensive greatness it must make up by intensive strength. The true strength of the kingdom was not to be found in the aristocracy but in the whole nation. To lift up a people it is necessary to give liberty, independence, and property to its oppressed classes, and extend the protection of the law to all alike. Let us,” said he, “ emancipate the peasant, for free labour alone sustains a nation effectually. Restore to the peasant, the possession of the land he tills, for the independent proprietor alone is brave in defending hearth and home. Free the citizen from monopoly and the tutelage of the bureaucracy,, for freedom in workshop and town-hall gave to the ancient burgher of Germany the proud position he held. Teach the landowning nobles that the legitimate rank of the aristocracy can be maintained only by disinterested service in countiy and State, but it is undermined by exemption from taxes and other unwarrantable privileges. The bureaucracy, instead of con­ fining itself to pedantic knowledge and esteeming red tape and salary above everything else, should study the people, live with the people, and adapt its measures to the living realities of the times.” Von Stein died in 1831, mourned by the whole of Prussia, and leaving the reputation of one of Prussia’s greatest states­ men. His plans were mostly carried out. In 1877 a monu­ ment to his memory was erected in Berlin. The power of England, I am afraid, rests more on its extensive greatness than its intensive strength. Whilst we should be sorry to see its extensive greatness wane, who would not help on aud increase its intensive strength? It is to lift up the people, to give them the necessary liberty and inde­ pendence of which Von Stein spoke, that I venture to invite public opinion to a consideration of this Distribution Reform, for in it social reformers, philanthropists, Christian workers— aye,’ even those who estimate the progress of the nation by statistics of capital employed in various industries—will, find a lever wherewith to help on the work they make their delight. m 2 �I^° DISTRIBUTION REFORM. The wealth of a nation does not consist of the money value of its capital, neither is the number of its millionaires any indication of its intensive strength. Nations that have not known the use of money have been surpassing rich. In the islands of the Pacific there are peoples who know not the blessings of civilization nor the value of gold, that are richer than we. They have no paupers, nor any half-starved citizens. The wealth of a nation consists in the ease with which it obtains the necessaries of life, in the liberty and independence of its people. The money value of commodities may be great or small; but it is in the abundance of the supply that wealth exists. Phe more artificial the civilization, the more perfect should be the industrial organizations for obtaining that supply, and for its distribution. Under existing systems of production, it may be possible for increased supplies and falling prices to be a loss to the individual and an indirect gain to the community j if produc­ tion was organized for the collective good of producers, and distribution organized for the collective good of consumers and producers, falling prices could not be considered disas­ trous. «In depreciations, rises and falls, the results would be distributed ; if the gains overbalanced the losses, the benefit would be collective, and individual good would come out of the collective good. I base the reforms advocated on grounds of general pro­ gress, and a higher life of society generally. I wish to see class bias removed, and therefore ask for no favours for a particular class ; I simply plead for justice for all. If the working classes are under existing systems proportionately less favoured than other classes, then in a just measure of reform they will be proportionately more benefited ; but in the strain and tension of social and industrial organizations it is not only one particular class, but the whole community, that now suffers. It is for the relative well-being of all that this question de­ mands serious consideration. Considering the wonderful diversity of character and varied �JUSTICE NOT EQUALITY. l8l aspirations of the human mind, its boundless power of research and grasp of knowledge, its capacity for the divination of laws which govern the universe—-aye, even its capacity for divining God’s will to man—it is clearly evident that men were never intended by the Creator to be on one dead level of mental equality. The powerful mind and cultured intellect will attain a higher sphere, and consequently have greater influence, than the less cultured. All we ask for in this reform is justice to all, and fair play to intellect and labour in the industrial world, and their reward in proportion to results. If we are to have an aristocracy, by all means let it be one of mind, and moral and intellectual worth, rather than one of wealth. The growth and amount of the capital in Savings Banks is often referred to as a proof of the well-being of the working classes. At the end of 1883 the amount of capital in the PostOffice Savings Bank was ^41,768,808, and in the Trustees Savings Banks ^44,987,123; in all, ^86,755,931. If these savings do belong to the working class, and if they were to employ a twentieth part of them in forming distributive asso­ ciations such as I have described, I will venture to predict that in less than twenty years’ time they would have the distribution of the products of their industry in their own hands, and would then be able to dictate the conditions on which productive enterprises should be established and carried on. Labour would then indeed be emancipated. But rather would I see this work undertaken without class bias; rather would I see capitalist and labourer join in the work for their mutual good, and by degrees gradually bring about that co-operative action which is indispensable to their mutual well-being. In the success of such associations we should have a solid guarantee for national prosperity ; it would be easy for all to obtain enough, difficult for any one to accumulate inordinately. Wealth and power would be associated with intellect and per­ sonal worth; the people would be contented, because pros­ perous ; the great ends of life more nearly attained than we have yet seen. �182 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. The smallest price on which a new bishopric can be founded would appear to be ^100,000. A direct successor of the Apostles, the Galilean fishermen and the tent-makers, who did their Master’s will from love of duty and devotion to His cause, must, it seems, have a minimum income of ^4,000 a year guaranteed before he can begin work. The first' Apostles, whose direct successor he claims to be, went forth i£ provided with neither gold nor silver nor brass in their purses, nor scrip for their journey, neither had they two coats nor shoes nor yet a staff.” They trusted the Master’s promise, and laid no store on, nor made any provision of, worldly wealth. To-day the oligarchy of money—plutocracy—is to be seen in our churches and chapels as well as in parliamentary and industrial life ; the worshippers in them are the well-to-do, the opulent hold in them the places of honour and influence ; the poor and needy are not seen therein, the observance of Christian worship is left to the well-dressed few. Well may the Bishop of Manchester lament the little of Christianity remain­ ing in England. The practice of the Christian religion has been crowded out by the love of wealth, and the race for its possession. If the amount required to endow a new bishopric were employed in distributive and productive associations, on the principles I have laid down and explained, it would do more good in five years, bring about more of a spirit of true religion and practical Christianity, than will be done in twenty years of dogmatical preaching or theological speculation. The prophet Isaiah reproved the hypocrisy of his time ; his righteous condemnation of the counterfeit fast might have been written for the present day—his expressions of the true fast, and the earthly happiness following the observance of it are within the possible reach of any community. In the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah we read—“ Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and shew my people their transgression and the house of Jacob their sins. Yet they seek me daily and delight to know my ways as a nation that �THE TRUE AND COUNTERFEIT FAST. did righteousness and forsook not the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous ordinances, they delight to draw near unto God.” “ Wherefore have we fasted, say they, and thou seest not 2 wherefore have we afflicted our souls, and thou takest no knowledge 2 Behold, in the day of your fast ye find yottr own pleasure, and oppress all your labourers. Behold, ye fast for strife and contention, and to smite with the fist of wicked­ ness : ye shall not fast as ye do this day, to make your voice to be heard on high. Is such the fast that I have chosen 2 the day for a man to afflict his soul 2 Is it to bow down his head as a rush and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him 2 wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable to the Lord. Is not this the fast that I have chosen 2 to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke 2 Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house 2 when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him ; and that thou hide not thyselffrom thine own flesh 2 Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy healing shall spring forth speedily, and thy righteousness shall go before thee ; the glory of the Lord shall be thy reward. Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here L am. Lf thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking wickedly ; and if thou bestow on the hungry that which thy soul desireth, then shall thy light rise in darkness, and thine obscurity be as the noonday : and the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in dry places, and make strong thy bones ; and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose water fail not. And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places; thou shalt raise tip the foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called the repairer of the breach—the restorer ofpaths to dwell ini Here we have a positive affirmation of the truth that the well-being, prosperity, and happiness of a people is the result of individual sacrifice, and that individual happiness and peace of �184 DISTRIBUTION REFORM. mind are alone to be found in the material progress and well being of the whole. To those who would see the hungry fed, the naked clothed, the bands of the yoke broken and the oppressed go free; to those who would see a provision made from the proceeds of industry for the fatherless and the widow; those who would see virtue flourish where vice now prevails, those who would see the brightness of noonday in the lives of the people, the waste places made fruitful, the breach between class and class repaired, I recommend an earnest consideration of this question of Distribution Reform. Cassell Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, Ludgate Hill, London E.C. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; 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> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Distribution reform : the remedy for industrial depression, and for the removal of many social evils Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Illingworth, Thomas Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: xvi, 184 p. ; 18 cm. Notes: Includes bibliographical references: lacks index. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cassell & Company Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [Pref. 1885] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context N321 Subject The topic of the resource Social problems Industry Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <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 (Distribution reform : the remedy for industrial depression, and for the removal of many social evils), 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> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Depressions (Economic) Distribution (Economic Theory) Great Britain-Economic Conditions-19th Century NSS Social Problems https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/947bd6b03691e1dd5a8e36aceb2feb52.pdf?Expires=1784764800&Signature=W7q4uB-6wEbV8cFtWg8T43otCGpvL8gwbpQJXrvo3mojWYssAWRkXV43oLBOUcHnUzkAavU2XfVZklzd%7Ed3GWDZN1AZMbf-QLovyY-C2U1k63seZ4LGSbE-92%7EiYyMBsikYmdMGgTUbmTx%7EBzu1IIN5zfTrB-Wh4JrBv22kbPVJfdHWX8ihBTcNjOvfWVN%7E23aPjsmrGure6sXsi6NmqtzDipPAMvkbAB4RSLL6QOQAkSXkfVE73S9PYYzfS2P%7EiVkNgPYEVXjHdH4yHPH8Y6yLkSMDkpdVsd22SKTkz3uWeXw8ud3g3ts76cxW-YcCl38D5iV3QdWnxG5NomKFfsw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 8946c60c798bbf31e68711337e8e530f PDF Text Text SECULARISM: ITS RELATION TO THE SOCIAL PROBLEMS OF THE DAY. BY CHARLES WATTS, Vice-President of the National Secular Society. Price Twopence. WATTS & CO., 17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET. 1894. �I �ITS RELATION TO THE SOCIAL PROBLEMS OF THE DAY. SECULARISM, in dealing with the social problems of the day, relies upon human reason, not upon ‘‘ divine ” faith ; upon fact, not upon fiction ; upon experience, not upon a supposed supernatural revelation. It can discover no value in what is termed spiritual proposals as a remedy for existing evils. Hence Secularists can recognise only that as being socially useful which tends to the physical, mental, moral, and political improvement of mankind as members of the general commonwealth. Considerations about matters that are said to transcend the province of reason, and that make the business of this life merely of secondary importance, Secularists deem to be, at the most, only of theoretical interest, and of no real service in the social struggle in which society is at present engaged. The very fact that the theological remedy for social wrongs has had a long and fair trial, with such advantages in its favor as wealth, fashion, and untiring devotion, and yet that it has failed to prevent the present crisis, is a nple proof of its utter inability to successfully grapple with the drawbacks to a healthy state of society. It is, therefore, of the highest import­ ance to seek to destroy faith in theology as a reforming agency, inasmuch as it has been well weighed in the balance of time and experience, and has been found wanting. Our first duty, then, in my opinion, as Secularists, in reference to social problems, is to expose false remedies, and thus make it easier to establish correct ones. True, many persons think the fallacies of theology have already �4 Secularism : been sufficiently exposed, and they urge that to continue the destructive work is only to “ beat a dead horse.” But is the theological horse really dead ? Let the recent conduct of the clerical party upon the London School Board, and the present persistent efforts of Christian exponents of all denominations to put their teachings forward as the only effectual panacea, ans ver the question. It is still proclaimed even by some “ advanced ” reformers, that the solution to our social problems would be in following the example of Christ and in adopting his teachings. A. greater delusion was never promulgated, and I deem it my duty to say so. Christ is reported to have said, “ My kingdom is not of this world,” and according to the New Testament he acted as if he believed what he said. What are our social problems ? Principally they are excessive poverty, unjust class distinction, monopoly of the land, unfair accumulation of wealth, the degradation of labor, the predominating rule of the aristocracy, and the absence of genuine secular education among the masses. Probably, the problem of ignorance is likely to be more speedily solved than either of the others named, but Christ did not furnish the key to the solution, and it is worthy of note that his followers have thrown every obstacle in the way of the emancipation of the masses from the curse of the absence of knowledge. In reference to the other stupendous evils mentioned, where and when did Christ propound an efficient scheme whereby the world could be freed from them ? Granted, he exclaimed: “Woe unto you that are rich”; “Sell that thou hast and give to the poor.” But would it not have been better to have shown how the monopoly of wealth could have been prevented, and how giving to the poor would have been unnecessary ? Poverty is a curse, and to be dependent on charity is humiliating. Seeing that all attempts in the name of religion have been futile in furnishing solutions for our social problems, the duty of all Secularists is to seek some other plan whereby those solutions may be obtained. Among other plans, we have Socialism, Individualism, and Anarchism put forward, and each is claimed by �Its Relation to Social Problems. 5 its advocates as being the true remedy. Now it is evident to me that the Secular Society cannot, in its official capacity, accept either method in it entirety, for to do so would be to ignore the primary object of the Secular organisation, which is to destroy theological errors and to establish the truths, that morality depends upon no form of super­ naturalism, and that the actions of daily life can be usefully performed in the noblest manner, unassociated with any of the religions of the churches. The relation of Secularism to all the‘‘isms” named is the same as it is towards the political and religious movements of the day, namely Eclectic—that is, it selects the best from among them all. Provided he does his best to combat existing evils, each member of the Secular party is at liberty to support any movement that seems to him wise and useful, supposing it to be based upon “ peace, law, and order.” In fact Secu­ larists should feel bound to investigate, as far as possible, all proposals made for the redemption of mankind regardless of sect or party. Special care, however, should always be taken to discriminate between true and false methods, and not to confound vain theories with practical remedies. It is- not my present object to discuss the merits or the demerits of the many professed remedies for social evils now before the public. No doubt there is much in connection with each of them that is commendable ; and, as a Secularist, I should defend the right of the exponents of all the schemes to be heard, so long as they confined themselves to argument and intellectual exposition, free from all physical violence. Personally, I cannot accept the theory of Individualism, if it is not based upon regard for the rights of others. Neither can I adopt that phase of S >cialism that would entirely obliterate the just claims of the individual ; whilst with that form of Anarchism that would destroy individuals indis­ criminately Secularism, as I understand its principles, can have no sympathy whatever. It is not a ques­ tion of motive, but of method, that has to be con­ sidered. �6 Secularism : While I recognise the right and utility of combination for mutual protection, and for advancing the good of those united, I am not blind to the fact that there may be interests outside of any one particular combination that should be fairly considered. If, for instance, a person accepts the theory that the land, which is the source of all social comfort, should be nationalised, and that the reasonable value of its use should be applied to defraying the national expenditure, it does not follow that he should consent to have his house, his family, and his wages also nationalised. Many persons prefer the form of Socialism known as Co­ operation, which is at once legal, rational, and useful. There are approximations to this plan in building societies and in profit-sharing manufacturing concerns. And neither of these involve the extinction of indi­ viduals or of individual interests ; on the contrary, they contribute to the maintenance of both in their integrity. In seeking to solve social problems, there is one thing that must always be observed —namely, that, in pursuing our own good in our own way, we should strive not to unnecessarily damage the interests of others. Freedom of thought, of speech, and of action for all is a claim consistent with reason, and essential to human progress. The point here to be insisted upon is that the exercise of personal liberty, which does not infringe upon the freedom of others, is the right of all without any regard to class distinctions. This principle Secularists maintain, without committing themselves to all that is taught in the exercise of that right. If it is asked how true freedom is to be distinguished from that which is false, the answer will be that every individual should be free to give expression to his thoughts ; but whether or not such thoughts represent that which will prove beneficial to society must be tested by comparison, and by fair and open discussion. It will be thus seen that while, in my estimation, Secularism recognises the justice and need of revo­ lution, that revolution must be one of thought and of principles. This cannot be too much emphasised, �Its Relation to Social Problem?. 7 more especially at the present time, when revolt, in some instances, has assumed ttie brutal form of reckless violence in the shape of bomb-throwing, which cannot be too emphatically condemned, as being not only cruel and diabolical in its nature, but also as being a barbarous hindrance to the progress aimed at by all true reformers. I am thoroughly opposed, under the present conditions of society, to all violence which tends to the destruction of persons and property. It indicates either insanity or uncontrolled passion, rather than a clear insight into the causes of social advancement At any rate, violence, if resorted to at all, should be the last, not the first, process in the struggle for any reform among reasonable beings. Possibly in times past it might have been necessary; but the people did not then possess the means for redres­ sing wrongs that they have at their command to-day. In the past they were kept down by a domineering Church and by a despotic Government, and all political rights were withheld from the masses. Now the Church has lost its former power, and governments must “assume a virtue if they have it not.” Besides, the people, although they have not all the political power that is their due, have sufficient to enable them, if they use what they possess wisely, to obtain further reforms in a peaceful manner. Secularism enjoins reliance upon free speech, a free platform, and a free press, in the conducting of our present social warfare. These are weapons more in harmony with the intelli­ gence of the age than is the use of instruments of physical violence. Further, the employment of moral force gives promise of a success that will be useful in its influence and enduring in its results. To sum up, the duty of Secularists towards our social problems appears to me to be this : To recognise the necessity of discovering the best possible solutions, and, when those solutions are found, to apply them with all the moral force at our command. This useful work must be carried on by each of us in our capacity as social reformers—a task which will be inspired by the genius of Secularism, for no consistent Secularist can remain idle while evils abound that mar the hap- �8 Secularism: piness of the human family. The special duty of a member of the Secular organisation consists in demand­ ing that freedom which will enable every reformer to carry on his good work without intimidation or perse­ cution of any kind, and also in doing his utmost to re­ move such impediments to progress as have been caused by priestly invention, and by the false conceptions of human duty which have been engendered by theo­ logical teachings. Here the Secularist will have ample scope for his reforming aspirations. He can commence at the root of the evil, which is the theological errors with regard to the nature and destiny of man, and the persistent opposition of the Church to mental freedom and social independence. When these errors are eradi­ cated from the human mind, it will be in a condition to more readily receive those truths discovered by long and patient study—truths that will form the real basis of the solution of our social problems. While it is a Secular duty to consider the best means that can be employed to improve the general condition of society, the method adopted by any member of the Secular Society to accomplish this result rests upon his individual responsibility. I am anxious that this fact should be remembered, because it is not my desire that Secularism should be held responsible for the opinions of its adherents upon “ outside questions.” The official position taken by the National Secular Society in reference to reforms of general social matters may be seen from its published statement under- the heading of “ Immediate Practical Objects ” in the Secular Almanack for 1894 Recently Cardinal Vaughan proclaimed that the one remedy for our present social disasters was to be found in the Roman Catholic religion ; and, with a view of applying this remedy, he announced the inauguration of a Roman Catholic Social Army, for the purpose of carrying out his plans. He based his action upon the assumption that our social evils and all the revolu­ tionary proposals for their extinction were due to the presence of Atheism and of other “ isms,” which he recklessly classed together, regardless of their nonrelation. Here is the old theological trick of repre­ �Its Relation to Social Problems. 9 senting disbelief in God and Christianity as being the cause of all the wrongs and woes that afflict the human race, and arguing that the only real remedy for such mis­ fortunes is the adoption of the teachings of the Church. The fact is overlooked that such teachings did not prevent, neither have they removed, the very evils which we have to deplore. If, however, Atheism is such a prolific source of evil, it would be reasonable to suppose that the characters of Atheists would be known to be bad, and their policy destructive of the stability of society. But the very opposite is the truth, as personal experience and general history amply testify. Theodore Parker observes : “Atheists are men who aim to be faithful to their nature and to their whole nature. . . . They are commonly on the side of man, as opposed to the enemies of man ; on the side of the people as against a tyrant ; they are, or mean to be, on the side of truth, of justice, and of love.” Bacon says : “ Atheism did never perturb States.” The Right Hon. William Pitt truthfully acknowledges that “ Atheism furnishes no man with arguments to be vicious ” ; and Professor Tyndall remarks: “ If I wished to find men who are scrupulous in their adherence to engagements, whose words are their bond, and to whom moral shiftiness of any kind is subjectively unknown ; if I wanted a loving father, a faithful husband, an honorable neighbor, and a just citizen, I should seek him and find him among the band of Atheists.” Surely the testimony of the above writers, who knew the character of Atheists from practical experience, is of more value than the opinion of Cardinal Vaughan, whose religion doubtless has prevented him from associating in any way with “ wicked Atheists.” In the Weekly Sun, March 25, Hector Graham writes : “ I have associated with a great number of Agnostics in my time, and am con­ strained to admit that I have always found them happy, honorable men. . . . I put the question seriously — How many Atheists destroy themselves? Hardly any. How many thorough unbelievers are found in gaol ? How many promote bogus societies and vic­ timise the fatherless and widows ? Alas ! the press too often shows us that the promoters of such societies �10 Secularism: and companies have been looked upon -with respect and adoration, and have been Christians of an eighteencarat stamp.” But it is not only the nature of Atheism and the characters of Atheists that refute the pious Cardinal’s assumption; there are other facts that are equally cogent against him, and these show the utter impotency of' his theological schemes to successfully cope with existing social evils. Supposing Roman Catholicism were a cure for social evils, have we not a right to suppose that such evils would have been absent in this country during the Middle Ages, and that they would not be found in Catholic countries to-day ? Such, however, was and is not the case. Crime, ignorance, and poverty flourished during the period when the religion of Rome was in the zenith of its power, and when Atheism and other “ isms ” had com­ paratively no opportunity to exercise a counteracting influence upon the actions of the Church. And to­ day we know of no Roman Catholic orthodox conti­ nental country whose government is free from anxiety in consequence of the deplorable condition of the people. Sceptical England, with all its faults, is far ahead socially of many countries where Catholicism is supreme. Before Cardinal Vaughan’s spurious remedy can be accepted in this country, credentials of its efficacy must be forthcoming. It has not proved effectual in America. The progress of that great and grand Republic has for years been retarded, and is now being paralysed, through the increasing power of Rome within its domain. The number of voters who profess the Catholic religion in the United States is becoming larger every year, and it is acknowledged that this fact proves a great danger to the development of American free institutions. The influence of these votes is used against public schools and the secu­ larisation of general legislation. But what is worthy of special note, as demonstrating the fallacy of Cardinal Vaughan’s claim as to the utility of his remedy for social evils, is that, notwithstanding the power of his Church on the other side of the Atlantic, the con­ dition of the people there is at the present time most �Its Relation to Social Problems. 11 alarming. The reformer stands aghast at the spectacle of a million sober and industrious citizens being with­ out the means of living, having neither money, food, nor shelter, and not having the means of obtaining these requirements by honest work. If there be any doubt as to the accuracy of what is here stated, let the reader study Henry George’s article in the North American Review for February last, and it will be found that I have not over-stated the gravity of the social condition of the American people. Henry George describes many of the principal institutions of that country as being converted into charity-collecting and distributing agencies, and every group of workers as taxing themselves for the relief of the thousands of unemployed. He further alleges that the churches in Chicago are thrown open for the shelter of the house­ less poor, and that in Ashland (Wis.) a charity pie had been made twenty-two feet in circumference and a quarter of a ton in weight. The continent is repre­ sented by him as being visited by an epidemic of charity, and no other subject is allowed to engage so much of public attention. This certainly is an appal­ ling state of affairs—one which cries aloud for an immediate remedy. The Cardinal’s faith evidently is useless as a panacea, for more profession of that faith is to be found in the United States than in any other Protestant country ; and yet the social evils have been increasing for some time past, until the state of society has reached a degree of wretchedness and poverty that is a disgrace to civilisation. Of course, Henry George professes to see the cause of this gloomy condition of affairs, which he considers to be the wrong regulations regarding the distribution of wealth and the terms of land tenure ; and, like the Cardinal, he thinks that he also has discovered a remedy in what is called “ the single tax.” This means that the increased increment that “ now goes to the mere appropriator ” should be used to pay all the expenses of the country, and thus abolish all other taxes now imposed for general pur­ poses. The result of this would be, he argues, that an end would be put to speculation in land, which makes it become dearer every year. �12 Secularism : In submitting his proposal f >r remedying our present social evils Henry George thinks he has discovered that the prevailing wrongs in society are largely due to interference by man with the exercise of Almighty Power. He says: “ He who made food and clothiug and shelter necessary to man’s life has also given to man, in the power of labor, the means of maintaining that life ; and when, without fault of his own, man cannot exert that power, there is somewhere a wrong of the same kind as denial of right of property and denial of right of life—a wrong equivalent to robbery and murder on the grandest style.” It is presumable, from this extract, that Mr. George entertains some peculiar theological notions which he mixes up with his proposed remedy. To my mind it seems most un­ fortunate that social reformers will encumber their sug­ gested remedies with mystic theological speculations. This, no doubt, has proved one of the causes why such remedies have failed to achieve the object sought. It is my firm belief that, judging from experience, ameliorating efforts will continue to fail until the evils of society are dealt with by purely natural means. The alleged supernatural aid has been evoked long enough without success ; and now surely wisdom should pr >mpt us to avail ourselves of those resources of which we have some knowledge, and over which we can have some control. It is not here a question of the truth of Mr. George’s theology so much as of its noa-adaptability to the purpose at issue, although, as he puts it, God’s providential share in the scheme seern.3 to be exceedingly puzzling. For instance, what can be thought of an Almighty “ He ” who would have so arranged matters that the present evils could be possible ? Further, can it be conceived that “ He,” if he is benevolent and the principal in the concern, would permit “ robbery and murder on the grandest style”? Would it not be better to leave all that this “ He ’ is supposed to represent entirely out of con­ sideration in dealing with the social evils, and to seek for the remedy in mundane conditions ? Even upon the theological hypothesis, the bane ” being here, the “antidote” sue lid be here also ; and our duty is to �Its Relation to Social Problems. 13 seek to discover it, and to apply it to the "ills that flesh is heir to.” This position Henry George admits to be the practical one, despite his theological adulteration ; for he says the solution of the labor problems is to be found as follows: ‘‘The opportunities of finding employment, and the rate of all wages, depend ultimately upon the freedom of access to the land, the price that labor must pay for its use’' This solution, Mr. George holds, can be speedily put into practice. To this latter statement I cannot assent. No doubt, if its immediate application were possible, improvement upon the existing state of things would follow. But experience proves that the partial remedies that have hi-herto been adopted, both in social and political affairs, have been gradual in their growth and slow in producing the desired results True, he refers to the many thousands of families that were enabled to settle on estates in New Zealand through the Land Act of the late Freethinking Premier, Mr. John Ballance. But it must be remembered that this able reformer had a long and hard struggle to secure the moderate relief that he obtained for a few thousand families in that new and fertile country. It took many years of courageous and persistent advocacy of a very able organiser before his efforts were crowned with any success. And when the battle was won, it was not that of the purchase of the land, but merely that it should be held at a rate equivalent to the income or property tax imposed in that colony. It should, how­ ever. be remembered that even this modicum of reform was much easier to obtain in a colony possessing new and virgin soil than it would be to “ take from mere appropriators ” in the old country that which could only be secured by lawful means. As regards England, the probability of any benefit arising from Mr. George’s proposal appears very remote. His plan has been before the world now for many years, and at present there is no indication of its being adopted. This, of course, is no argument against its value; but it shows that Mr. George is rather premature in sup­ posing that his remedy “ can be speedily put into �14 Secularism: practice.” I have not the slightest desire to depreciate any attempt to relieve the burdens of toil, or to check any possible alleviation of social suffering; still, I cannot ignore facts, although I may regret that they exist. It will be within the knowledge of many of my readers that a whole generation has passed away since J. S Mill and others inaugurated a movement in reference to the unearned increment, and little or nothing has been done up to date to realise the im­ provements those reformers suggested. Parliament has also been recently considering the subject of allot­ ments, from which great things are expected. Leading articles in our democratic newspapers are echoing the old cry of “ Back to the Land,” than which nothing could be better under suitable conditions. But how is the thing to be done ? and, even if it could be accomplished, would it be an unqualified advantage without other reforms equally necessary? A small plot of land, to be cultivated in spare hours, by men accustomed to it, might prove a useful investment, if the rent were nominal, of which there is not much hope at present. If, however, anyone expects a bene­ ficial revolution by putting families on a few acres of land in this country, they would, I think, be doomed to disappointment. To make the cultivation of land in England profitable, not only industry is required, but skill, judgment, and the best appliances are neces­ sary, and the latter need an amount of capital which, unfortunately, is not within the reach or at the com­ mand of the poor laboring man. Before land in England can become self supporting to the working classes, the problem of a moneyless people must be dealt with. If some millions of money and some millions of acres of land were placed at the disposal of well-trained and experienced farm laborers, no doubt they would give a good account of themselves. But on any other terms I have but little faith in the advantages of going “ Back to the Land.” So far as the problem of the land question is con­ cerned, I fail to see its immediate solution in any one scheme now before the public Still, many measures �Its Helahon to Social Problems. 15 could be adopted to hasten on a solution; such, for instance, as the total abolition of the game laws, the repeal of the laws of entail and primogeniture, and an easy and a cheap mode of transferring land. The present expensive manner of selling it should at once cease, for so long as it is legal to buy and sell land there is no reason why it should not be transferred in as inexpensive a manner as that in which the beasts that feed upon it are sold. All legislation upon this subject should tend to destroy the monopoly of land,and to place it at the command of the people, so that it may be used for the two purposes of providing food and of paying its just share of national taxation. To do this it may be found that the Nationalisation scheme will be the most effectual one to adopt. But ere this can be accomplished and properly worked the toiling classes must recognise that the work of reform will have to be done by themselves. They have depended upon others too long, and now the fact must be faced, that self-help is the only successful aid to rely uj on. It will also be necessary^ to make our Government representative in its character in the fullest sense of the word—a Government by the people, and for the people, irrespective of any particular class. With such a Government, its principal function would be to give force to the public will in removing existing obstacles to the attainment of just laws, so that the work of amelioration may go on unimpeded by that legacy of aristocratic and class distinctions which has so long proved a potent hindrance to the general welfare. In order that such a consummation may be realised, prudence, frugality, disciplined thought, and sound education upon the part of the masses will be neces­ sary. And in proportion as these requisites are possessed and utilised, so, in my opinion, will the remedies be found for the present evils of society. Under such conditions the revolution will not be sudden, but it will be none the less certain in its arrival, and none the less beneficial in its influence. �CHARLES WATTS’S WORKS. The Teachings of Secularism Compared tianity. Is , by post Is. 2d. Christianity : its of Orthodox Chris­ Origin, Nature, and Influence. 4d., by post 5d> Secularism; Destructive The Glory with and Constructive. 3d., by post 4d. Unbelief. 3d., by post 4d. Agnosticism and Christian Theism ; Which is the More Reason­ able ? 3d., by post 4d. A Reply to Rather Lambert’s “Tactics of Infidels.” 6d., by post 7d. Theological Presumption : An Open Letter to the Rev. Dr. R. F« Burns, of Halifax, N.S. 2d., by post 2£d. The Natural and the Supernatural; or, Belief and Knowledge. 3d., by post 4d. Evolution and Special Creation. 3d., by post 3id. Contents :—What is Evolution?—The Formation of Worlds—The Beginning of Life upon the Earth—Origin of Man—Diversity of Living Things—Psychical Powers—The Future of Man on Earth Happiness in Hell and Misery in Heaven, 3d., oy post 3|d. Science and the Bible. 4d., by post 5d. Bible Morality: Its Teachings Shown to be Contradictoiy and Defective as an Ethical Code. 3d., by po?t 3jd. The Bible Up to Date. 2d., by post 2|d. The Superstition of the Christian Sunday. 3d., by p st 4d. Education: True and False. (Dedicated to the London S hcol Board.) 2d., by post 24d. Secularism: Its Relation to the Social Problems of 2d., by post 2|d. Is these a Life Beyond the Grave? the Day. 3d., by post 3|d. Christianity : Defective and Unnecessary. By Mrs, Charles Watts. 3d., by post 3^d. Secularism: Is it Founded on Reason, and is it Sufficient to Meet the Needs of Mankind ? Debate between the Editor of the “Evening Mail” (Halifax, N.S.) and Charles Watts. With Prefatory Letters by G. J, Holyoake and Colonel R. G. Ingersoll, and an Introduction by Helen H. Gardener. Is., by post Is. 2d. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; 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> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Secularism: its relation to the social problems of the day Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Watts, Charles [1836-1906] Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 15, [1] p. ; 19 cm. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Watts & Co. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1894 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context RA1581 N677 Subject The topic of the resource Secularism Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br />This work (Secularism: its relation to the social problems of the day), identified by <span><a href="www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a></span>, is free of known copyright restrictions. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English NSS Secularism Social Problems https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/3a8352ad14ad98f5140fbfb5d02be4ea.pdf?Expires=1784764800&Signature=YY0GT-I-1nSym12WKvhBWrPZzgIn6wVG7H8f25dW4ksZWCWQtpSCeuXMfQPpJj6WwqJmemGLBj2SDShYU5bezuPpYC-egfz2V8ECatzbRljEFnRIHh5taPN59btNbiZehtZWatD7c0YAtATewB4CQ6II9gjrwMyUjbPuZxwucEp7TOmrrXBR11uYMWg2ofYTNW-fPWSUtTT4%7Eq2UfpEjpQlsInnFfKq4xdCR37su3EPv8mRkOWvPGlUi74V69I8Ysswv%7EIe6JmGoasRfayEIdlG9VqWzCmBOWnq99mN8uemUNcylmPMMiZtWFwb%7Ec%7EfmE2xctF3KdunVrzsqjakmjA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM f52f1d9a317cbdf7c324be273b67217b PDF Text Text Ti N?hJ5 ’ r' NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY • a ; O0,. 1 KloviSirn, .'/ ■••4t a. ’••< C^AgV- J A THE SERVICE OF MAN / T �Clairvaux, Fitzjohn's Avenue, N. IK May i6tll, 1886. My dear Clodd. The book which I wish to publish is entitled “ The Service of Man: An Essay towards the Religion of the Future. ” It is, of course, largely founded on Positivist principles, but by no means exclusively so. And, as a matter of fact, Comte is never referred to or even named. Great harm has been done to Positivism by forcing Comte crude and simple down people's throats and winding tip every paragraph, like the prayers in the liturgy, with “ through Auguste Comte our Lord." But that is not the chief reason why I have chosen this course. I differ often so deeply and completely from Comte that I cannot take him as my sole authority; and, on the other hand, to controvert him was not desirable or needed. The object of the book is to show how the Service of God, or of Gods, leads by natural evolution to the Service of Man ; from Tlieolatry to Anthropolatry. Always yours most sincerely, Jas. Cotter Morison. �THE SERVICE OF MAN AN ESSAY TOWARDS THE RELIGION OF THE FUTURE BY JAMES COTTER MORISON [issued for the rationalist tress association, ltd., by arrangement WITH MESSRS. KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO., LTD.] WATTS & CO., 17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C. 1903 ��JAMES COTTER MORISON : IN MEMORIAM1 James Cotter Morison is in a special sense one who has left his work even more in the memory of his friends than in permanent fruit before the public. At school and at college this man, who in general acquaintance with ancient scholarship and in wide historical know­ ledge seldom met any superior, was, as happens so often, unmarked by prizes and the ordinary academic honours. Like John Ruskin, John Morley, Algernon Swinburne, and so many of our best writers, he passed through Oxford without official recognition or public honour—gathering, perhaps, all the more that he never entered into any competitive race, a thirst for books, a full harvest of knowledge, and a true zest for historical literature. Though he had no university distinctions, he made many friends at Oxford, and was at once marked by generosity of nature and sympathetic charm in conversation. With John Morley, his contemporary, of the same college, he maintained a life-long friendship, and perhaps a still closer communion of literary interests with the famous scholar, tutor, and ulti­ mately Head of Lincoln College, Mr. Mark Pattison. We can many of us recall the graceful and sympathetic account of his old tutor which Morison wrote on the death of the Rector. Sympathetic charm, affection, gene­ rosity, fertility and grace in social converse, were the leading qualities of Morison’s nature. There have been of course in our day many men of greater learning; though Morison’s knowledge was very wide and well possessed. There have been many men of more brilliant wit; though he would often delight a room by the point and felicity of his talk. There have been some men of more astonishing fancy and poetic imagination; though neither fancy nor imagination was wanting in him. But what in a really supreme degree was the mark of Morison’s conversation was, not so much its learning, its wit, its fancy, its ingenuity, but that which is often wanting when learning, wit, and fancy are most abundant—I mean genuine sympathy, the sense of contact of spirit with spirit. He was no master of mono­ logue, no habitual teller of stories, no lecturer, no egotist in society. He loved to find at their best those around him, to put himself in contact with their hearts, their brains, their experience; he drew out what was in his companions, he stimulated their curiosity, gratified their interests, gathered from them all he could, gave them all he knew, exchanged with them knowledge, and suggested to them fresh fields, new ideas. There was keen intellectual activity in this. But there was far more of affec­ tionate sympathy. In this quality he had no superior in the society in which ’This appreciation was originally delivered to the Positivist Society then meeting at Newton llall, and is reproduced here in a slightly abridged form. �6 JAMES COTTER MORISON: IN MEMORIAM he lived. I almost doubt if he had an equal. Let us do full justice to this rare, this beautiful quality. It is one very different from that which is often admired as con­ versational brilliance. I am not one of those who would set much store by con­ versational brilliance in itself, where the brilliance is an end, the habit one of display, the motive egoism. The sym­ pathetic union of mind with mind, the touch of one character upon another, the genuine desire to give new life and put fresh warmth into a friend’s spirit— this is, surely, a moral faculty of singular value and true social delight. And how rare is it! There are learned men, clever men, men of bounding elasticity of mind and temper, who instruct, amuse, dazzle us. But how often do they stand apart by themselves to themselves, from fastidiousness of intellect, from self-absorption, from a certain hardness and coldness of nature, taught them in the long stern work of their lives. How rare are those who, having given their lives to study, have the freshness and freedom of a college lad, when for the first time in his life he begins to feel all the charm, the uses, the emotion of true conversation! How seldom do the brilliant men really relish the brilliance of others, at least in the first comer or the stranger. How often is the scholar dull, the wit irritating, the student sententious, the great talker fatiguing. Now Morison, who was certainly scholarly, witty, learned, and brilliant, was never, I think, fatiguing; for he was always first and foremost sympathetic : his sympathy covered all he did, coloured and warmed all he said. Sympathy is the bond of Humanity. In the magnificent aphorism of Comte, “ If the kingdom of Heaven belong to the poor in spirit, the kingdom of Man belongs to the rich in heart.” Though men speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not sympathy, it profiteth nothing. Though men under­ stand all mysteries and all knowledge, and have not sympathy, it is nothing. Sympathy covereth a multitude of sins. Sympathy is but one side of the great Apostle’s untranslatable and illimitable dycon)—and Morison had sympathy. Sympathy stands out in his social life, in his friendships and his admirations, and it stands out in his literary works. It shines forth in his intense love of music, the most sympathetic of the arts. It shines out in his love of art, and his study especially of architecture. It stands out in his early college life ; in his life in Paris, where he lived long in the centre of a Positivist group ; in his life in London; in his devoted regard for men who in turn taught, fascinated, and delighted him—men so very different, yet who each left impressions on his mind :—first, I think, and earliest, Mark Pattison; then perhaps Cardinal Man-| ning ; afterwards Thomas Carlyle ; and, lastly and finally, for the last five-andtwenty years of his life, our venerated chief, M. Pierre Laffitte. Few men of our time have ever understood Paris and Frenchmen more intimately than he. And it was by his sympathy and affectionate instinct even more than by his long experience and incessant study. I well remember his life in Paris, where he lived some years with his wife and family, as a link between literary Englishmen and French republicans—a link, too, to some extent, between classes of Parisians who are very seldom seen in the same room, and who are not very willing so much as to �TF. rSmORISON: IN MEMORIAM Bonverse or act together. Yet Morison, as one outside the strife of class and party in Paris, by virtue of his kindly and genial bonhomie, would gather together those who seldom met elsewhere. I well remember his Paris home, where there came men of mark in the world of letters and the world of politics; Louis Blanc and some of the older school of socialists, some of the younger revolu­ tionists, conservative politicians, and young men already of promise in the administration, physicians, - lawyers, journalists, and artists, mingled with workmen, clerks, employes, typical men of the Parisian democracy. All felt at home—all were friendly, bright, and at ease. In Morison’s home it was difficult for any man not to feel at ease, not to be bright and friendly. He led them to feel what he was himself. He was brilliant, sympathetic, genial, and the source of brilliance, sympathy, and good fellowship in others. There were but few other houses in all Paris where such men could meet and be at ease. It was his gift. It is a rare gift, and a precious. Sympathy, I have said, was the key­ note of his nature; sympathy was the keynote of his best work in letters. It is sympathy, even more than eloquence, more than study, more than art, which makes his St. Bernard a really fine and permanent work. It is a beautiful book, a true book, a conclusive book, what a book ought to be. It is one of those books which are, in a way, decisive on a great crucial social problem. The deepest question of our day is thisDo men in society require any spiritual guidance ? Is a spiritual power a real thing; is it a possible thing? Is a Church an evil or a good ? And, as matter of history, was the Catholic Church a blessing or a 7 curse ? As a matter of religion, had the Catholic Church anypermanent residuum of good in it at all ? I know no problem in social science, in morality, in religion, so crucial as this—no task which litera­ ture can so usefully undertake. On this great problem Morison’s St. Bernard is decisive, final, crucial, so far as history is able to decide. It is the life of one of the most perfect natures recorded by man, engaged in one of the most central duties, in one of the most typical epochs in all human story. It is a life told with entire simplicity, the most genuine enthusiasm, with exact historic truth, with no unscientific weak­ ness, with no foolish blindness to hard fact, with perfectly rational sense and self-possession. But a picture of a most vivid personality, with complete under­ standing of its meaning, and with all the issues, the circumstances, all the problems manfully faced and laboriously worked out. It is no pedant’s work; it is no mere student’s monograph; it is not a literary tour-de-force. It is a noble portrait of a real saint. And the brush of the painter is dipped in sympathy. Now, it is no slight thing to reach inwards into the depths of the spirit of a true saint. When a famous painter was asked how he mixed his colours, he answered, “Sir, I mix them with brains.” If Morison had been asked how he studied history, he might have replied, “Sir, I study it with sympathy.” His St. Bernard was written in sympathy, and it was prepared with sympathy, under the influence of three men—how very different, and yet each having much to tell us about an Abbot of the Middle Ages—Cardinal Manning, Thomas Carlyle, and Auguste Comte. It was in preparing his book on St. Bernard that Morison first acquired �8 JAMES COTTER MORISON: IN MEMORIAH that deep interest in the Catholic Church, that real insight into the Catholic Church as a historic power, which he retained during life, and which breaks out in fine fragments in his latest book. It was then that he sought permission, and obtained the privilege, of passing some weeks within a Cistercian monastery, where he submitted to the sternest and most exacting form of monastic disci­ pline. It was a teaching which coloured and deepened his whole mind through life. This fragment about twelfth-century monasticism was dedicated to Thomas Carlyle “ with deep reverence and grati­ tude ; while writing it Morison was pro­ foundly influenced by his intercourse with the author of “Past and Present”; but the moral or theory of the book is already drawn from the teacher whom he was soon to know more intimately, in whose teaching he remained finally ab­ sorbed—I mean Auguste Comte. . The same spirit of sympathetic enthu­ siasm glows throughout another picture of Catholic zeal, the beautiful monograph on Joan of Arc. It comes out in a richer way in the address which he gave in Newton Hall on the 31st of December, the Day of the Dead, on the human idea of subjective immortality. In a very different vein, also, it essentially colours those two excellent studies, the Lives of Gibbon and of Macaulay, where the effort to judge these famous writers at their best so often appears through mani­ fest disagreement with their judgment and their tone. It is a curious example how resolutely bent was Morison’s mind on a really appreciative spirit (to use that somewhat ill-favoured word) that he used to say, in writing his Life of Macaulay, that he was constantly in fear of rather overdoing the effort to show abundant justice to a writer for whose style, method, and historical standpoint he himself had so strong a distaste. In his historical, as in his critical work, there is always the same mark—if we must use that clumsy word—the appre­ ciative spirit, the irresistible eagerness to get at the best side of an author, of a book, of an institution, of a historical character, to feel with their senses and to place himself in their position. In how many an essay, monograph, review— now, alas I forgotten, or soon to be for­ gotten; too many, I fear, unsigned, un­ known even to his closest friends;— through how many of them does this appreciative spirit run! In such historical monographs as I have mentioned, in his graceful and thoughtful lectures, in his enthusiastic estimate of Dr. Bridges’s book on Richelieu and Colbert, in his reminiscences of Mark Pattison, in his essay on Art, in the piece on Madame de Maintenon, in scores of short pieces full of just judgment and various know­ ledge. It is mournful to think how scattered, how unknown, how perilously near to final waste and extinction, is so much good fruit of head and heart, which was not knit up into unity and system in life. Most mournful of all is it to think on the long years of labour that he gave to his History of France, the fruit of so much ripe study, of such instinctive insight into character, of such grasp of institutions—all now, we fear, gone to waste, to uselessness, and final nothing­ ness. It is the law of our life—a law inexorable, solemn, and full of warning. As the old Hebrew poet said : “ Let me know mine end, and the number of my days : that I may be certified how long I have to live. For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain : he heapeth up riches, and cannot �JAMES COTTER MORISON: IN MEMORIAM tell who shall gather them.” “In the morning it is green, and groweth up : but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.” Or, as the great Persian poet said :— 9 have been disposed to make, that the book is in any sense an exposition of the Positivist conception of what the Service of Man may become. I cannot myself look on it as an exposition of Positivist opinion at all. It was not so “ With them the seed of wisdom did I sow ; And with mine own hand wrought to make it designed by the author; it is not so in grow ; execution or result. And this was all the Harvest that I reap’d:— The book is a fragment, or rather a I came like Water, and like Wind I go 1 collection of fragments, introductory to “ There was a door to which I found no key : a work that has never been written. There was a veil past which I might not see : Continually before the book appeared I Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was—and then no more of Thee and can remember Morison explaining to me Me.” his purpose. The present book, he Happily we have risen above the said, was in no sense to be a Positivist mysticism of the Hebrew poet, the utterance. It should not contain Comte’s scepticism of the Persian poet. In his teaching ; it should not refer to Comte. thoughts about life and about death It should handle certain topics of religion Morison was neither mystic nor sceptic, and social morals which stood on the but Positivist. It would have been threshold of the question. Ultimately, strange indeed if one so intensely sym­ he said, he hoped to complete a book pathetic had not trusted in Humanity; on constructive lines, which was, in fact, to be the substantive and positive view and he did trust in Humanity. I have said nothing of his last work— of the Service of Man—a far more The Service of Man. It was but a important and far more extensive task, fragment—indeed, not so much a frag­ as he felt it to be. The essays now ment as a bundle of fragments—-some­ before the public wTere the critical, preli­ what hastily thrown together into a minary part. The Service of Man in its volume when he felt the approach of ultimate form, I can well remember his death, arranged with little cohesion and saying, was to be a sort of “ Whole Duty plan, and put out when his mortal of Man,” from the Positivist point of disease had already insidiously sapped view, in simple words which the least educated could understand. his energy. That book has not been written. I I know nothing about it so excellent know not if any portions of it exist. as its beautiful title, a phrase which in itself is worth many books, and will And, as that is the case, as the con­ prove quite an epoch in the growth of structive and positive treatise on the our faith. The Service of Man has Service of Man is wanting, I almost many noble passages and fine sugges­ regret that the critical and controversial tions ; but for my part I can hardly part has ever been put forth. Most judge of its meaning or its tendency in assuredly, to my thinking, not a little in the absence of the conclusive work to the book as we have it now is in no sense which it was simply a collection of intro­ Positivist teaching, is not even compatible ductory chapters. Most emphatically with Positivist teaching. We should be do I deny the suggestion which some failing in our duty if we allowed it to be �13 JAMES COTTER MORISON: IN MEMORIAM publicly assumed that this book as it stands impressionable, so elastic, could not be is in the remotest degree an embodiment rigid, would be over-indulgent to himself of the Human Religion. It was not so and to others, would be too ready to meant; assuredly it is not so in fact. yield, to receive, to assimilate, too care­ There is much in it which, on moral and less of discipline, moral and mental, too religious grounds, I should myself most eager to see truth anywhere and good in emphatically repudiate, as entirely alien all things. A nature of inexhaustible to the whole spirit of Comte’s teaching. sympathy like his, a brain of such vivid I mean much that is said about the receptive impulsiveness, was far too problem of population, and still more prone to submit to the impression of much that is said as to the origin of the every powerful mind, of every fascinating moral sense and the nature of man’s book, of every creative and fertile con­ moral responsibility. Even at this ception, and in each case was too willing moment, and on this occasion, and full to exaggerate its value. And Morison as I am of affection and regard for my not seldom did exaggerate the value of dead friend, I cannot pretend any sym­ things, and of books, and of men. To the main conceptions of Humanity pathy with the strange paradox : “ The sooner the idea of moral responsibility he was uniformly true, to the great con­ is got rid of, the better it will be for ception of the Service of Man, to “ the society and moral education.” If these cultivation of the heart, as incomparably words are to be taken literally, I say a the most important both to our own thousand times—No ! Society and moral happiness and that of others,” and finally education rest on the idea of moral re­ to the beautiful idea of Subjective sponsibility as the very cornerstone of Immortality in Humanity. In the last the entire edifice. letter that I had from him—just before In spite of this, Morison, as I say, his death—he said : “ I am obviously in accepted in its main spirit the faith in the last lap of life’s race, but how far Humanity, and for the last twenty years through it I cannot say. I have been of his life clung to it as a final and suf­ thinking much of Comte’s views on the ficient basis of belief. But not, be it objective and the subjective life. And said, without considerable reserves, much I seem never to have realised them occasional fluctuation of mind, and some before. I feel that the transition will definite antagonism. We here have no be rather a boon than a pain.” The absolute standard of orthodoxy ; we pro­ same idea was finely worked out in his fess no verbal adhesion to all Comte’s impressive discourse on the Day of the utterances; we do not set up to judge Dead. each other’s orthodoxy, or to censure He died in the faith of Humanity, each other’s backslidings from the truth. supported by the confidence and hope that Man does not end here as the I do not desire to be judged myself. beasts that perish, but continues to live Most assuredly I shall not presume to judge him. He read and accepted in the memory of those who loved him, Comte freely for himself, even as we claim in the continuance of much true work and beautiful teaching, in the mighty to read him and accept him for ourselves. Like all of us, Morison had the defect of continuous life of Humanity itself. In his qualities. A nature so versatile, so the absence of specific directions, his �JAMES COTTER MORISON: IN MEMORIAM family provided for his burial in the way that they felt most congenial to their feelings. And, in the absence of specific directions, that is the natural and obvious course that awaits us all. But none the less it is our duty here to keep alive, as we best are able, the memory and the work of our departed friend and brother. A life of such activity, of such culture, of such varied accomplishments, of such high designs and difficult tasks —in so large a part marred, mutilated, buried in the grave, by his long malady and too early death—such a life has profound and solemn lessons for us. How truly does it speak in those pathetic words of the teacher of old : “I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day : the night cometh when no man can work.” Let us, too, work the works of Humanity, as our dead friend yet speaks to us, in the Service of Man ; for it is Humanity that has sent each of us, which has taught us, fed us, protected us, and has set us to work—to work at what?—at what else can man work but at the Service of Man? The night cometh when no man can work with his hands, when no man can work visibly, no man can work con­ sciously, but when we all work invisibly, in the consciousness of others—unseen, but really—when our brains, our hearts, our good deeds continue to work in Humanity. Death is for each of us not the end of life, unless it be made the end by the heartlessness, the indiffer­ ence, the cruelty of those who survive ii on earth. The grave has not the victory, unless we who stand beside it and live deliberately choose to bury in it the memory, the love, the work of our dead friends, relations, and teachers, with tlH same final abandonment with which we bury in it their bones. We are each of us some fraction, some organ, some representative (how­ ever humble and unknown) of the Humanity which confers on every worthy servant a truly immortal life. Whether or not there be to any a lite beyond the grave is a question which depends on those who survive. For children, relatives, friends, contempo! raries of all sorts, the higher duties of Family, of Friendship, of Humanity, do not end as the fresh sods are piled upon the grave. They only then begin. Th J last sad offices are over. The moral 1 the spiritual, the religious uses of death! the moral, the spiritual, the religious ideas of life after death, then truly begin —not so much for our dead parent, friend, teacher, fellow-worker—no, rather, they begin for us. Let us think of our dead friend and fellow-labourer as we knew him at his best, with his warm heart, with his generous nature, with his bright vivacity! with his intensely sympathetic impulses! and think not that he is dead, but that he sleepeth—that the best of him yet lives and works in our lives, in our thoughts, and finally in the bosom of the Humanity which made him. Frederic Harrison. �CONTENTS Pace Chapter I. Introductory - II. The Decay of Belief III. Wiiy Men Hesitate- - - - - - -13 ...... ... . . . IV. The Alleged Consolations of the Christian Religion V. On Christianity as a Guide to Conduct - - - 32 - 42 VI. Morality in the Ages of Faith ----- VII. Wiiat Christianity has Done VIII. The Service of Man - 52 - 69 ...... 94 IX. On the Cultivation of Human Nature - - - - 16 29 • - 103 �THE SERVICE OF MAN Chapter I. INTRODUCTORY A ruined temple, with its fallen columns and broken arches, has often been taken as a suggestive example and type of the transitory nature of all human handi­ work. “Here we see”—so runs the parable of the moralist—“ the inevitable end of man’s most ambitious efforts. Time and the elements cast down and consume his proudest fabrics. He builds high, and decorates with sculp­ tured ornament his palaces and fanes. But his work is hardly finished before decay begins to efface its beauty and sap its strength. Soon the building follows the builder to an equal dust, and the universal empire of Death alone survives over the tombs of departed glory and greatness.” The parable of the moralist is only too true. Decay and death are stamped not only on man and his works, but on all that surrounds him, on all that he sees and touches. Nature herself decays as surely, if not as rapidly, as the work of his hands. The everlasting hills are daily and hourly being worn away. Alps, Andes, and Himalayas are all in process of a degradation of which there is no repair. Nay, the Sun himself, the universal author and giver of life in our planet, is only a temporary blaze—a fire perhaps already more than half burnt out, hastening to its final consummation of cold and lightless ashes. And pro­ bably no other fate is in store for the countless stars which bespangle the nightly firmament. The animalcule, whose existence is measured by a summer’s day, and the galaxy which illumines the heavens for millions of ages, are alike subject to the common law of all life—growth, decay, and death. Some may think that an exception ought to be made to this statement in favour of the perennial vitality of Truth. Truth, it will be said, does not wear out, decay, and die. The Elements of Euclid are as true now as they were two thousand years ago. Truths obtained by induction and verified by experiment, or by correct deduction from true principles, do not change and pass away with the generations of men who hold them. It is therefore rash, such objectors would say, to assert that all things con­ nected with man are destined to ultimate extinction. His reason is independent of time, and has that in it which belongs to eternity. All must see this in regard to the incontrovertible truths established by science; many see it in tuitions of the mind, and others in doctrines of religion supposed to be divinely revealed. It is often added that it is fortunate for man that, amid the constant change going on in the phenomenal world, a permanent reality does exist, on which he can lay hold—eternal truth. It would be careless to overlook the importance of this counter-statement. About the permanence of truth there can be no question. Whether it be obtained by observation, generalisation, or deduction, verified by experiment and proof, we may safely assert that such truth will last as long as the human mind remains constituted as it is. But does that entitle us to claim eternal duration for any truth ? No one believes that the human race will last for ever. �M THE SERVICE OF MAN There is a probability, amounting almost to a certainty, that neither man nor his dwelling-place will exist beyond a certain, though it may be a very large, number of years. Now, when the human race shall have ceased to exist, would it be correct to say that the truths cognised by the human mind will survive it ? This could only be maintained by an idealist, who should place their continued existence in some extra-mundane Eternal mind—as that of God—which may be an article of faith, but hardly of reason. Moreover, if true propositions can exist after all the minds which could affirm them have disappeared, why should they not exist before the phenomenal ap­ pearance of those minds ? Can we consistently say that the propositions of Euclid existed in the Carboniferous era ? If so, why not assert that all the truths yet to be discovered in the remote future exist at present ? There is no question that things undreamt of in the philosophy and science of to-day will be trite commonplaces two or three thousand years hence. But are they truths now or yet ? Not only they are not, but the great probability is that, if they were expressed in words now, they -would be denounced as wild and dangerous errors. So that it is still legitimate to say that even truth exists for a time, while we admit that verified truth will have a duration co-equal with that of the human race. It is to be observed that the only truths that belong to this permanent class are the truths of simple observa­ tion, or of rigorous scientific inference. They have always been few in number, if compared with the multitude of pro­ positions held to be true by the mass of mankind. They are now increasing with unprecedented rapidity, owing to the great development of the scientific spirit in modern times. They obviously stand quite apart from the truths supposed to be derived from divine revelation. The latter differ from them both as to the method by which they were obtained, and especially in their durability. Lengthy as may seem the existence of the great religions of the world when measured by our small scale of chro­ nology, yet their transitory, not to say ephemeral, character is manifest to reflection, and even to observation. Go where we will on the earth’s surface, we find traces of bygone men—of their tombs, of their ashes, their temples— which testify to the former existence of religious beliefs nowr extinct. These beliefs embodied the most precious and profound of all truths in the devout conviction of those who held them, but they were so far from permanent that often they move the wonder and even the laughter of after-ages. Perishable as are brick, stone, and marble, they have outlived in countless instances the faiths which once wrought them into majestic architecture in their own honour. Temples often survive their creeds by thousands of years. Wind, rain, and frost disintegrate the roof and the walls of a shrine with more or less rapidity, according to climate; but they are not so swift or potent to destroy the material fabric as knowledge and science are to undermine the conceptions and assump­ tions on which the religious beliefs were founded, and for which the sumptuous fanes were erected in a spirit of reverence and sacrifice. Not less marked in another respect is the difference between the truths derived from religion and the truths derived from science. The truths of science are found to be in complete harmony with one another. Where this harmony is wanting, it is at once felt that error has crept in unawares. We never give a thought to the alternative hypothesis, that truths in different sciences or departments of knowledge may be inconsistent and mutually hostile, and yet remain truths. On the contrary, we find that the dis­ covery of new truth has invariably among its results the additional effect of corrobo­ rating other and older truths, instead of conflicting with them. In the history of science it has often happened that a �INTRODUCTORY newly-discovered truth has proved incon­ sistent with prevalent opinions, which had the sanction of tradition in their favour. But the position has always been felt to be intolerable, and that one of two things must happen—either the new truth must reconcile itself with the old opinions, by the necessary modifica­ tion ; or the old opinions must reconcile themselves with the new truth by a similar process. In astronomy the heliocentric theory, and in biology the circulation of the blood theory, produced the latter result, and revolutionised those two sciences by expelling a number of previously unsuspected errors. In modern times, on the other hand, the plausible theory of spontaneous genera­ tion has been forced to beat a retreat through its proven' inconsistency with older truths firmly established. Now, with regard to the truths announced with the credentials of a divine revelation, we find a very different state of things. There seems to be no exception to the rule that, the older religions grow, the more infirm do they become, the less hold do they keep on the minds of well-informed and thought­ ful men. Their truths, once accepted without question, are gradually doubted, and in the end denied by increasing numbers. This fate happened to Greek and Roman polytheism, and according to all appearances it is now happening to Hindooism, Islam, and to both Protestant and Catholic theology. We have to consider what a very surprising fact that is, on the supposition that any one of these religions is true. All the chief dogmas of the Christian and Mohamme­ dan creeds have been for several centuries before the world. They once were not v only believed, but adored. Now the numbers of those who doubt or dispute them are increasing every day. Time has not been their friend, but their enemy. Instead of becoming more firmly rooted in men’s esteem and con­ viction, instead of revealing unexpected connection and compatibility with other truth, instead of being supported by an 1! ever-growing mass of evidence which would make their denial insane rather than unreasonable, they are seen more and more to lack the proofs and credentials never wanting in the case of genuine truth, from which they differ in this important respect—that, whereas scien-l tific truth, though often disputed and opposed on its first presentation to the world, invariably ends by becoming absolutely certain and unquestioned, religious conviction begins with un­ doubting acceptance, and, after a shorter or longer period of supremacy, with the growth of knowledge and more severe canons of criticism, passes gradually into the category of questioned and disputed theories, ending at last in the class of rejected and exploded errors. That the world, in its cultivated! portions, has reached one of those great turning-points in the evolution of thought which mark the close of an old epoch and the opening of a new one, will hardly be disputed by any well-informed person. The system of Christian theology and thought which arose out of the ruins of the Roman empire has beejii gradually undermined, and its authority] so shaken that its future survival is rather an object of pious hope than of reasoned judgment. Apologists, indeed, are not wanting, they are per* haps never so numerous; but they cannot stem the torrent which is rushinsa away from theology in the direction of science, and that negation of theology! which science implies. Regarded as a question merely of speculation, the crisis is one of the most interesting which the world has seen, only to bq compared to the transition from poly­ theism to Christianity, in the early centuries of our era, and to the great Protestant revolt from Rome. But the speculative interest pales before the momentous practical interest of the crisis. A transfer of allegiance from one set of first principles to another, especially on subjects relating to morals and conduct, cannot be effected without considerable loss of continuity and order �16 THE SERVICE OF MAN by the way. Many will halt between Humanity. A common and lofty stan­ the two regimes, and, owning allegiance dard of duty is being trampled down in to neither, will prefer discarding all the fierce battle of incompatible prin­ unwelcome restraint on their freedom of ciples. The present indecision is action. The corruption of manners becoming not only wearisome, but under the decaying polytheism in the injurious to the best interests of man. Roman world, the analogous corruption Let Theology be restored, by all means, during the Reformation and the Renais­ to her old position of queen of the sance, offer significant precedents. It sciences, if it can be done in the light of would be rash to expect that a transition, modern knowledge and common-sense. unprecedented for its width and diffi­ If this cannot be done frankly, on the culty, from theology to positivism, from faith of witnesses who can stand crossthe service of God to the service of Man, examination in open court, let us could be accomplished without jeopardy. honestly take our side, and admit that Signs are not wanting that the prevalent the Civitas Dei is a dream of the past, anarchy in thought is leading to anarchy and that we should strive to realise in morals. Numbers who have put off I that Regnum Hominis which Bacon belief in God have not put on belief in I foresaw and predicted. Chapter II. THE DECAY OF BELIEF Opinions and systems of thought as well as institutions, which enjoy a con­ siderable lease of life in the world, have many of the characteristics of organisms, or at least of organs belonging to ani­ mated beings. The fact that they came into existence and survived during a longer or shorter period proves that they discharged a function of more or less utility ; that they were in harmony with the surrounding conditions, and hence found both exercise and nourishment for their support. If in time they gradually cease to discharge a useful function, become atrophied and disappear, their case is almost exactly parallel to the rudimentary organs found in so many animals, which, having ceased to be of use, become shrunken and meaningless, and only persist in an abortive form by virtue of the law of heredity. Such ■organs in the body politic resemble these analogues in the body natural, in that they often continue to exist long after their presence has ceased to subserve any useful purpose of life. The common trait of rudimentary organs belonging to either category, biological or sociological, is that they survive their use, that they are nourished and live at the expense of the organism in which they exist, and long after they have ceased to make any return for the support they obtain. In the animal world rudimentary organs may or may not be noxious to the organism in which they inhere; in the social organism they unquestionably are so, especially by their occupying the room and preventing the development of active and efficient organs which would succeed and replace them. That the Christian religion is rapidly approaching, if it has not already reached, this position, is a part of the thesis main­ tained in these pages. The decay of belief now general over Christendom �THE DECA Y OF BELIEF may be regarded from two points of view, and traced up to two distinct causes— one rational, the other moral. The current faith has come increasingly into conflict with science in proportion as the latter has extended in depth and area. The isolated points of collision of former days have been so multiplied that the shock now is along the whole conter­ minous line between science and theo­ logy ; and it would not be easy to name a department of inquiry-which has not, in some measure, contributed aid to the forces arrayed against the popular belief. More important still is the changed tone of feeling with regard to this subject. Time was, and even a recent time, when the prestige of Christianity was so great that even its opponents were overawed by it. But now men are ready to openly avow that they find a great deal in the Christian scheme which is morally shock­ ing ; and in the estimation of many minds nowadays, probably the moral difficulties outweigh the intellectual. Nothing is more common than the assertion that any objections now made to Christianity are worn-out sophisms, which have been answered and disposed of over and over again by previous apolo­ gists. Sometimes we are told that the objections are as old as the time of Celsus, and were refuted by Origen ; but, gene­ rally, Bishop Butler is the favourite cham­ pion who is credited with a preordained victory over all opponents, past, present, and future. Butler was so great a man, and his work, considered as a reply to the shallow deism of his day, was in many respects so successful, that it argues a certain irreverence for his character to load him with false praise and unmerited laurels. But these claims often made for Butler and others have their interesting and instructive side. They show how little apt the theological mind is to see the real points at issue, and to recognise the full gravity of the present crisis. To suppose that argu­ ments directed against such disputants as Toland, Collins, or Tindal—pertinent as they might be, and, indeed, for the 17 most part were—are equally potent when directed against the methods and results of modern science, implies a complete misconception of the true bearings of the question under discussion. In the early eighteenth century the light of science had hardly got beyond the first glimmer­ ings of dawn. Mathematics and as­ tronomy were the only sciences which had passed into the positive and final stage. Chemistry, geology, biology, historical criticism, were not yet in a position to speak with authority even on subjects in their own province, and were far from being in possession of vast stores of verified truth obtained by rigorous application of correct methods, such as now impose respect on the most ignorant and careless. The deists were, to say the least, as unscientific as the theologians. Their fancies about the “light of Nature,” which was to replace the Christian re­ ligion, were as arbitrary and absurd as any mythological legend. Tindal de­ clared the light of Nature to be a “ clear and certain light which enlightened all men,” and from this fact he inferred that “our duty both to God and man must, from the beginning of the world to the end. remain unalterable, be always alike plain and perspicuous”; a doctrine which had the serious defect of being contra­ dicted by the total experience of the human race. Butler had no difficulty in showing that to advance such opinions was to “talk wildly and at random.” No blame attaches to the deists, able and worthy men most of them, for not transcending the knowledge of the age. They attempted prematurely to solve a problem, before the means of solution were at hand. What they would have liked to do was to give a rational explanation of Christianity as an historical phenomenon ; but they had neither the historical nor the scientific knowledge requisite for such an undertaking. They consequently fell back on such vague metaphysical conceptions as the “light of Nature,” and essayed to show that Christianity was not mysterious, or that it was as old as the creation—mere c �i8 THE SERVICE OF MAN sophisms which they probably believed, but which were quite incapable of scien­ tific proof. It is not a little surprising that apologists in the present day should be able to deceive themselves as to the immeasurable distance which separates arguments of this kind from the in­ ferences unfavourable to theology de­ duced from science. Theobjectof science is not to supply hostile data for the use of agnostics against religion; though there is reason to think that many do believe that to be its chief end and aim. The object of science is knowledge, the increased number of those truths which are capable of verification and proof. If here and there its conclusions conflict with the current theology, the fact is of secondary importance, and of no per­ manent interest at all to science as such, which is concerned with positive, not negative, results. Every statement and proposition in the most elementary scientific primer probably conflicts with some theology or other. Yet it often seems to be assumed that the sole or the chief object of the labours of scientific men was to find means and arguments to damage the Bible. Scientific men, a most hard-worked and industrious class, have a better appreciation of the value of time, and of the wisdom of minding their own business. They, ho doubt, come upon results which are fatal to the currently-received opinions about the Bible. But these results interest them much less than they do those who are assured that the Bible is the Word of God. The tables have been turned since the days when Science timidly sued for leave to examine nature, and to draw a few conclusions of her own. Then Theology was queen, and made her power felt. Inquirers worked then, so to speak, with a halter about their necks, and were anxious, above all things, to appease their mighty enemy by every mark of deference and docility. Now the old sovereign has become the suppliant—a rather importunate and intrusive suppliant—but still by her demeanour, if not her -words, admitting that she has been discrowned. She no longer, with haughty bearing, issues her anathemas on the progress of the human mind, but she is in great anxiety to show that, appearances notwithstanding, this progress is not incompatible with her pretension. Geology seems to contra­ dict Genesis in a very direct and final way. “That is all your mistake,” says Theology; “ Geology and Genesis are in most perfect union; in fact, the science confirms the Scripture so wonderfully that each reflects light on the other.” The fact that the geology thus warmly accepted now was once resisted with energy and anger as an impious and futile science is passed over. New light as to its harmony with Scripture -was not noticed until it had attained a position of power which made it more desirable as a friend than as a foe. The fact is suggestive. A convenient mode of showing the way in which science has cut the ground from under the feet of theology will be a quotation from a once famous and remarkable book, which in its day, and for a long time after, was regarded, with justice, as a powerful piece of argument in favour of the current religion. Dr. Samuel Clarke was a man of con­ siderable ability and of very great attainments ; he was also a man of high and honourable character, and his Boyle lectures, commonly known as his two discourses, On the Being and Attri­ butes of God, and on The Truth and Certainty of the Christian Revelation, enjoyed an immense popularity, not only at home but abroad, all through the eighteenth century. The book is now read only by the curious in religious archaeology. In an elaborate argument, intended to show that, although the Christian doctrines “ may not be dis­ coverable by bare Reason unassisted by Revelation, yet when they are discovered by Revelation they are found most agreeable to sound, unprejudiced Reason,” Clarke proceeds to prove that the account in Genesis of the formation �THE DECA Y OF BELIEF of the earth is entirely credible, in the following passage : “ That, about the space of six thousand years since, the earth was without form and void—that is, a confused chaos, out of which God formed this beautiful and useful fabrick we now inhabit, and stocked it with the seeds of all kinds of plants, and formed upon it man, and all other specimens of animals it is now furnished with—is very agreeable to right reason. For though the precise time, indeed, when all this was done, could not now have been known exactly without Revelation; yet, even at this day, there are remaining many con­ siderable and very strong rational proofs which make it exceedingly probable (separate from the authority of Revela­ tion) that this presentframe arid constitu­ tion of the earth cannot have been of a very much longer date. The universal tradition delivered down from all the most ancient nations of the world, both learned and barbarous ; the constant and agreeing doctrine of all ancient philosophers and poets con­ cerning the earth’s being formed within such a period of time out of water and chaos ; the manifest absurdities and con­ tradictions of those few accounts which pretend to a much greater antiquity; the numbers of men with which the earth is at present inhabited ; the late original of learning and all useful arts and sciences; the changes that must neces­ sarily fall out naturally in the earth in vast length of time, as by the sinking and washing down of mountains, the consump­ tion of water by plants, and innumerable other such-like accidents—these, I say, and many more arguments drawn from Nature, Reason, and Observation, make that account of the earth’s formation exceedingly probable in itself, which, from the revelation delivered in Scripture­ history, we believe to be certain.”1 This passage shows what a compara­ tively easy matter the defence of the Bible was in Dr. Clarke’s day. He could, 1 Truth and Certainty of Christian Tci'etalicn, p. 187 ; edition 1724. without fear of serious contradiction, make assumptions which no one would venture to make now. The “ strong rational proofs,” which show that the earth cannot be much more than six thousand years old, would be hard to find. Why the shrinking and washing down of mountains was evidence of the recent date of the earth is difficult tosee; and the “ consumption of water by plants,” implying that the water of the globe was being rapidly used up and annihilated, is an interesting example of old notions on chemistry. In the earlier discourse on the existence of God, Clarke had been enthusiastic over the support given to his thesis by the dis­ coveries of his day :— “ If Galen, so many ages since, could find in the construction and constitution of the parts of the human body such undeniable marks of contrivance and_ design as forced him then to acknow­ ledge and admire the wisdom of its author, what would he have said if he had known the late discoveries in anatomy and physics, the circulation of the blood, the exact structure of the heart and brain, the uses of numberless glands and valves for the secretion and motion of the juices in the body: besides several veins and other vessels and receptacles not at all known or so much as imagined to have any existence in his days, but which now are discovered to serve the wisest and most exquisite ends imaginable ?”T Bacon’s famous maxim, that “a little philosophy inclineth men’s minds to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds back to religion,” is now being reversed. The early glimpses of the marvels of nature afforded by modern science undoubtedly were favourable to natural theology in the first instance. Knowledge revealed so many wonders which had not been suspected by ignorance that a general increase of awe and reverence for the Creator was the natural, though not very 1 Page 103. �20 THE SERVICE OF MAN logical, consequence. But a deeper philosophy, or, rather, biology, has rudely disturbed the satisfaction with which “ the wisest and most exquisite ends ” were once regarded. It is now known that, for one case of successful adaptation of means to ends in the animal world, there are hundreds of failures. If organs which serve an obvious end justify the assumption of an intelligent designer, what are we to say of organs which serve no end at all, but are quite useless and meaningless ? Such are the rudimentary organs in plants and animals, the design of which seems only to point to an unintelligent designer. ■ “Some of the cases of rudimentary organs are extremely curious—the presence of teeth in foetal whales which, when grown up, have not a tooth in their heads, and the presence of teeth which never cut through the gums in the upper jaws of our unborn calves....... Nothing can be plainer than that wings are formed for flight; yet in how many insects do we see wings so reduced in aize as to be utterly incapable of flight, and not rarely lying under wing-cases, firmly soldered together.”1 Again: “Eyes which do not see form the most striking example of rudimentary organs. These are found in very many animals, which live in the dark, as in caves or under­ ground. Their eyes often exist in a welldeveloped condition, but they are covered by membrane, so that no ray of light can enter, and they can never see. Such eyes, without the function of sight, are found in several species of moles and mice which live underground, in serpents and lizards, in amphibious animals (Proteus, Cacilia), and in fishes; also in numerous invertebrate animals, which pass their lives in the dark, as do many beetles,crabs, snails,worms,”etc.2 Another strange instance is “ the rudiment of the tail which man possesses in his 3-5 tail vertebrae, and which, in the human embryo, stands out prominently during 1 Origin of Species, p. 450. a Haeckel, History of Creation, vol. i., p. 13. the first two months of its development. It afterwards becomes completely hidden. The rudimentary little tail of man is an irrefutable proof of the fact that he is descended from tailed ancestors. In woman the tail is generally by one vertebra longer than in man. There still exist rudimentary muscles in the human tail which formerly moved it.”1 That facts of this nature, which have only been a short time before the world, should fail to convince theologians brought up in a completely different order of ideas is in no wise surprising. The due weight of facts will no more be allowed than the due weight of argu­ ments, by minds which habit and educa­ tion, and, perhaps, even a sense of duty, have combined to bias against them. But the effect on the younger and suc­ ceeding generations is very great, and is already perceptible. When theology was attacked in front with metaphysical argu­ ments, such as were used by the old deists, it was able to make a very stout and plausible resistance. But now its position, in military phrase, has been turned ; the heights around it and behind are occupied by an artillery which render further defence impossible. Take the instance of the origin of man. The whole scheme of Christian theology is mean­ ingless except on the assumption of the fall of man from a primitive state of innocence and virtue. Unless theolo­ gians are prepared to throw over St. Paul, they must hold that “as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” Perhaps no one doctrine ever believed by man has had a more terrible history than that of “ original or birth-sin,’’which, as the Ninth Article says, is “the fault and corruption of the nature of every man, that naturally is engendered of the offspring of Adam ; whereby man is very far gone from original righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil, so that the flesh lusteth always contrary to the spirit; and therefore in every person born into this world, it deserveth God’s 1 Ibid, vol. i., p. 289. �THE DECA Y OF BELIEF wrath and damnation.” But if ever a thesis was demonstrated, it is that man has not fallen, but risen, and that from the lowest level of animal existence. No court of justice ever witnessed a more complete discomfiture of an unfounded claim to a noble title and estate than the defeat of this theological claim for man, that he was made in the image of God, placed in Paradise in a state of purity, from which he fell through disobedience. The result is serious. The New Testament endorses the fall in the most emphatic way ; the Incarnation itself had no other object than that of neutralising its effects. Yet it is proved to be a mere fiction of a primitive cosmogony. The general rejection of miracles is another symptom of the decay of belief. The once active controversy as to the possibility of miracles has become nearly extinct, because one of the parties to it has been growing steadily in numbers and authority, while the other party has declined. The refuters of Hume address constantly-decreasing audiences, and the belief in miracles will shortly (like the belief in witchcraft in the seventeenth century) die a natural death among the educated classes. The notion that the testimony of men, however worthy and sincere, can suffice to establish a mira­ culous event is no longer felt to be serious. The testimony of credible witnesses is valueless, unless they be competent witnesses as well—competent to observe with patience, accuracy, and coolness the alleged facts. Were such observers present at the working of the miracles in Palestine which Paley patronises ? The argument against miracles has gained immensely in force since Hume’s day through the growth of the historic method, and the larger con­ ceptions of human evolution which have led to the incipient science of sociology. Hume’s principle was tersely and fairly enough stated by Paley thus : “ That it is contrary to experience that testimony should be true, but not contrary to experience that testimony should be 21 false a true statement, but not beyond the reach of plausible objection, as Paley showed. The moment we introduce the historic element, the question seems transferred to a higher court. Primitive, early, and unscientific man is at all times and everywhere prone to see miracle in everything that appears odd or strange to his limited experience, Ignorant of nature’s laws, he finds no difficulty in assuming their violation ; he lives in an atmosphere of fiction, fable, and myth, and much prefers a miraculous explanation of an event to a rational or real one. The belief in miracles is universal in wholly unscien­ tific times. With the growth of culture it diminishes; with the extension of science it disappears. Miracles are never supposed to occur except where and when an antecedent belief in them exists. In other words, the belief in miracles depends not upon objective facts, but on the subjective conditions of the witnesses’ minds. Paley tried to parry the obvious, objection that the best way to silencethe gainsayers of miracles would be torepeat them. “ To expect, concerning a miracle, that it should succeed upon repetition is to expect that which would make it cease to be a miracle; which is contrary to its nature as such, and would totally destroy the use and purpose for which it was wrought a remark less acute than Paley’s remarks usually are. Assuming that a miracle reveals the presence of a supernatural power, why should its repetition destroy its miracu­ lous character; above all, why should it destroy its use? If miracles are intended to convert the stiff-necked and hard of heart, what more likely way of bringing them to submission than the repetition of miracles? And, according to Scripture, this was pre­ cisely the way in which Pharaoh, King of Egypt, was humbled. He resisted the miracles wrought by Moses and 1 Paley's Evidences: Preparatory Considera­ tions. �22 THE SERVICE OF MAN Aaron with stubbornness all through the first nine plagues ; but the universal slaying of the first-born broke even his spirit. Such must always be the effect of repeated miracles; and there can be no doubt that even at this day, in the midst of all this science and scepticism, if mira­ cles were again wrought in a public place and manner, so as to remove the sus­ picion of trickery and legerdemain, the effect of them would be greater than ever it was. Suppose a prophet of God were to appear among us, and announce that he had a revelation to make. According to Paley, his only way of making it would be by miracle; he therefore would per­ form miracles. As all difficulties vanish before Almighty power, one miracle would be the same as another to him; and let us suppose him to walk on the water, down the centre of the Thames, from Putney to Mortlake. May we not be sure that one such achievement would produce a sensation perfectly over­ whelming, not only in London, but to the furthest limits of the civilised world ? If he rapidly followed up this miracle by others—fed with a few loaves the crowds on Hampstead Heath on a Bank Holiday, or those on Epsom Downs on the Derby day ; gave sight to a man notoriously blind from his birth, or raised from the ■dead a putrescent corpse which had lain four days in the grave—can we remotely conceive a limit to the excitement which would ensue ? Would not such a re­ action against current scientific notions set in as would sweep everything before it ? Supposing always that the miracles were bona-fide miracles, such as are assumed to have been wrought in Judsea some eighteen hundred years ago, we may even be sure that many, if not all, of the chief men of science would be among the most impressed, if not the most ex­ cited, and be prompt to own that they had made a great mistake in asserting the invariability of nature’s laws. A complete recast of the philosophy of the inductive sciences would be one of the least results of a manifestation of genuine miracles. As for its effect on the cause of religion, there can be little room for doubt. The passionate yet hopeless yearning, which now fills so many minds, to retain a rational belief in the super­ natural would be replaced by a serene joy over the triumph of faith. It may suit Paley to say that repetition of miracles would destroy their use, but he must be a lukewarm theologian who does not at times wish from the depth of his heart that an authentic miracle could be produced. Yet it is at this momentous crisis in the religious affairs of the world, when the enemy is carrying one position after another, and has all but penetrated to the citadel of belief, that no miracles occur—that no miracles are claimed, except, indeed, of the compromising species made at Lourdes, and now and then of a fasting girl exhibited in Belgium and in Wales. When no one doubted the possibility or the frequency of miracles they abounded, we are told ; that is, when, by reason of their number and the ready credit accorded to them, their effect was the least startling, then they were lavished on a believing world. Now, when they are denied and insulted as the figments of a barbarous age, when the faith they might support is in such jeopardy as it never was before, when a tithe of the wonders wasted in the deserts of Sinai and the “ parts beyond Jordan ” would shake the nations with astonishment and surprise—when, in short, the least expenditure of miracle would produce the maximum of result— then miracles mysteriously cease. This fact, which is utterly beyond contest, has borne fruit, and will yet bear more. Instead of a short chapter, a long volume would be needed to set forth in detail even a spicileghtm of the rational­ istic arguments which have operated to produce a decay of belief. Any one interested in the subject will easily find them in the appropriate quarters—in the attacks on, and still better, in the defences of, the Bible. The width of the breach between reason and faith, between theology and science, is hardly denied ; and the noteworthy fact is that only one �THE DECA Y OF BELIEF of the parties hopes for, or believes in, an ultimate reconciliation. Reason and science have made up their minds on the subject, and would gladly leave it alone, and attend to their own affairs. It is theology that cannot resign herself to a permanent quarrel, and is always pursuing science with a mixture of entreaty and reproach, and begging the latter to hear her cause over again, and not to say with cruel harshness that the separation is for good and all. We may, therefore, leave this side of our subject with a concluding observation. On no point were apologists more confident than on the impossibility of explaining the uprise of Christianity otherwise than by a supernatural principle. In the words of Archbishop Whately, “No complete and consistent account has ever been given of the manner in which the Christian religion, supposing it a human contrivance, could have arisen and prevailed as it did. The religion exists—that is, the phenomenon; those who will not allow it to have come from God are bound to solve the phenomenon on some other hypothesis less open to objection; they are not, indeed, called on to prove that it actually did arise in this or that way, but to suggest (consistently with acknowledged facts) some probable way in which it may have arisen, reconcilable with all the circumstances of the case. That infidels have ’never done this, though they have had nearly two thousand years to try, amounts to a confession that no such hypothesis can be devised which will not be open to greater objections than lie against Christianity.”1 The passage is interesting on other grounds than the particular one with which we are concerned, and leaves us the alternative of a low opinion either of Whately’s candour or of his perspicacity. The suggestion that infidels had or could have been “trying” for nearly two thousand years to concoct an hypothesis adverse to Christianity could only be 1 Logic, bk. iii., § 17. 23 based on a strange ignorance of the state of the human mind during at least three-fourths of that period, or on the safety of such an innuendo in the dark ages when the Logic was published (1829). But this need not detain us. The important point to observe is how completely Whately’s assertion that a rational explanation of the origin of Christianity has never been given has, by the Biblical and historical studies of the last half-century, been overthrown. Strauss, F. Ch. Baur, Keim, and Hausrath, to name only the chief writers, have made the early history of Chris­ tianity at least as intelligible as other scholars have made the early history oil Rome. To the unhistoric minds of the eighteenth century, the uprise of a religion in Palestine in the first centurl claiming supernatural authority, seemed as extraordinary and unaccountable as d similar phenomenon would have been in Paris or London. The religious passions! especially among uncivilised races, were at once disliked and misunderstood. Even Robertson the historian could only see in the Crusades “a singular monu­ ment of human folly.” There was sup­ posed to be no alternative between a truly divine relation and an artful fraud designed by priests for their own benefit. Whately’s phrase, “ supposing ChriB tianity a human contrivance,” points to this crude notion. With enlarged con­ ceptions of the variety of man’s nature, and historical development, the sponta­ neous appearance of such a religion^as Christianity is now seen to be quite natural and regular in such an age as t® first century. The mythopceic faculty of the human mind at certain stages is capable of more wonderful achievement than any exhibited in the New Test® ment, and is at this day in full operation in British India, weaving legends and creating gods with unchecked luxuriant® Meanwhile, the historical character of the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, and the genuineness of several epistjjes ascribed to St. Paul, have been grave® impugned, and, in the opinion of many, �24 THE SERVICE OF MAN seriously damaged ; an opinion not shaken by the counter-efforts of the Christain apologists. Again, the fortress of theology has been surrounded and commanded by the forces at the disposal of knowledge. But mere rationalism, however cogent to some minds, often remains power­ less on others, and those frequently possessing the best qualities of intellect and character. The deepest change which this age has seen in reference to men’s attitude towards the current theology has taken place, not in the region of the understanding, but in that of the heart. It is not so much that the Bible, with its miracles and legends, is felt to be untrue and incredible by the trained reason ; a great number of theological dogmas are felt to be morally repulsive and horrible, by the more humane conscience of modern times. This change of sentiment is so great and far-reaching that there is no wonder that its import is imperfectly seized, or even wholly missed by those whom the accidents of education and surroundings have preserved from its influence. It is a change not less momentous than that which placed the Christian converts of the Roman period in the position of passionate hostility to the immoralities and indecencies of decaying polytheism. Even divines are becoming aware that the eternity of hell­ torments is a doctrine of waning efficacy, on which it is easy to insist too much. Some are discovering that it lacks Scrip­ tural authority, and beseech us not to believe that anything so dreadful is delivered in the Word of God. The minimising of irksome tenets is a fre­ quent resource and an unfailing symptom of decaying faith. Julian and his pagan sophists essayed to spiritualise offensive Greek myths. There is no ground for doubting the bona fides of such attempts, but they rarely succeed. The obvious question, “ If your new interpretation is the right one, why was it not discovered before ? why did what you admit to be dreadful error receive apparently for a j I I ! 1 I long time Divine sanction ?” cannot be answered; and the question is followed by another: “If your predecessors taught error in the dogmas you discard, what guarantee have you to offer that those dogmas which you still maintain may not some day be discovered to be equally untenable ? How can you be sure that your successors, when hard pressed by the science of their day, will not, like yourselves, find good reasons for throwing them over ?” The eternity of hell torments is a doctrine discarded by a number of divines, who yet cling to the doctrines of the Incarna­ tion and the Atonement. There is nothing to assure us that, in a hundred years’ time, these also will not be discovered to be unscriptural. The Christian theology, in its main features, was evolved during the most calamitous period which the human race has lived through in historic times. The decline and fall of the Roman Empire still remains the greatest catastrophe on record ; the slow death protracted over five centuries of the ancient world. Every evil afflicted men in that terrible time : arbitrary power, the most remorse­ less and cruel; a grinding fiscality, which at last exterminated wealth ; pestilences, which became endemic and depopulated whole provinces ; and, to crown all, a series of invasions by barbarous hordes, who passed over the countries like a consuming fire. It wTas in this age that the foundations of Christian theology were laid—the theology of the Councils and the Fathers. The conception of God, of his relation to and dealings with the world, was evolved in a society wThich groaned under unexampled oppres­ sion, misery, and affliction. Needless to say, it was an age of great and almost morbid cruelty : the games of the circus were a constant discipline of the inhuman passions. After the empire had vanished, for long centuries there was no great improvement. The barbarism of the Frankish period may be seen at full length in the pages of Gregory of Tours. The Carling empire was an oppressive �THE DECA Y OF BELIEF tyranny ; the Feudal Age, one of lawless rapine on the part of the strong, and cowering anguish on the part of the weak. It was in this evil time that the Christian Theology was evolved, com­ mencing with the great doctrines defined by the Fathers, and afterwards reduced to a logical system by the scholastics, especially by St. Thomas, the Angel of the schools. With such visible rulers of the world before them, it is no wonder that men formed very dark and cruel notions of the invisible ruler, who disposed of all things. Cruelty, injustice, arbitrary power, were too familiar to be shocking, too constant to be supposed accidental or transitory. The real world before their eyes was taken as a dim pattern and foreshadowing of the ideal world beyOnd the grave. God was an Almighty Emperor, a transcendental Diocletian or Constantine, doing as he list with his own. His edicts ran through all space and time, his punishments were eternal, and whatever he did his justice must not be questioned. And thus those words came to be written, “Therefore hath he mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth. Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault ? For who hath resisted his will ? Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God ? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour and another unto dis­ honour?”1 which, probably, have added more to human misery than any other utterances made by man. St. Paul’s teaching fell on a fertile soil. For some fifteen hundred years the human con­ science was not shocked by it. Since the rise of the Arminian theology there has been a gradual and growing revul­ sion of feeling, and now it is said plainly that the “ potter has no right to be angry with his pots. If he wanted them different 1 Romans ix. 18-21. 25 he should have made them different.” The pretensions of an “ omnipotent devil desiring to be complimented ” as all­ merciful, when he is exerting the most fiendish cruelty, are no longer admitted in abashed silence. But if the great difficulty of hell and eternal punishments were happily surmounted, there remain, in the whole Christian scheme of redemption, moral iniquities and obli­ quities which no good man of the present day, whatever his religion or theology, would willingly be guilty of himself. The notion that God wanted to be pro­ pitiated by the death of the innocent Christ is a thoroughly base and barbarous one; natural enough in rude ages, when costly sacrifice was a recognised mode of appeasing angry deities, but repellent now. Hardly the most depraved man, in his right mind, would accept the vicarious punishment of one who had not offended him in lieu of one who had. A high-minded man would endure almost anything rather than countenance such an enormity. The idea is barbarous, well worthy of Chinese conceptions of justice, content if the executioner gets a subject to operate on, but indifferent whether it be the culprit or not. Yet this cruel and barbarous notion is the centre of the Christian religion; at least, it has not yet been discovered to be unscriptural, I believe. Again, Satan may well give latitudinarian theo­ logians trouble in this world as in the next. When they have explained away his eternal function of tormenting souls in hell, they will have to extenuate his strange temporal avocations on earth, and to explain how they can be permitted by a merciful God. A fallen angel of vast skill, subtlety, and guile is allowed to tempt men and women, even young children, to commit sin, to allure them away from Christ, to jeopardise their hopes of Paradise. And God, who permits this, is supposed to hate sin. If he had wished sin to abound, what could he have done more than to allow the arch-fiend, aided by legions of minor devils, to go about like a roaring lion �26 THE SERVICE OF MAN seeking whom he may devour, with con­ stant access to men, nay, to their most inward minds, whispering evil thoughts, stimulating criminal passions, and, how­ ever often driven away by holy prayer, ever renewing his assaults on poor souls, up to the last moment of mortal agony, when he oftener succeeds than fails in carrying them off to his place of torment? Christ’s petition, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one,” has never been heard, or it has not been granted. We are always being led into temptation; we are never delivered from the evil one on this side of the gates of death. A supernatural being who wrecked man’s felicity in Paradise, and brought sin and death into the world, is appointed to the office of tempting men at all times, in all places, throughout life; he is able to enter into the minds of his victims and pervert their souls, in society and in solitude, in sleep, and even in prayer, capable of assuming all disguises, even to appearing as an angel of light. A human seducer, however artful and vile, is restricted as to times and opportunities in corrupting the innocent. Satan has constant and in-, visible access. Now, a parent or guardian who allowed children under his charge to associate with bad characters would be justly condemned as wanting in a sense of duty and humanity. But God permits something infinitely worse, by the whole difference between an immortal evil spirit and the most profligate of earthly tempters. Let any human father try and imagine the anguish with which he would see his innocent, inexperienced daughter walking arm-in-arm with an accomplished and fascinating seducer. Would not his instantaneous step be to put an end to such corrupting inter­ course ? Would not public opinion largely condone violent measures on his part, if it should appear that the designs of the villain had been crowned with a calamitous success? Yet the heavenly father is supposed to see this and far worse every hour and minute of the day; to see the young, the weak, the unprotected, assailed by a supernatural tempter, his own creature, his rebel angel, wholly evil and malignant; and to see him succeed in his attempt to ruin souls. And then the betrayed, poor human victim, not the fiend, is punished. The fiend, indeed, is punished, but not for these acts against humanity. The righteous God promptly avenged insubordination and disrespect to himself. But ever since man’s creation Satan has had compensations. His dominion is ever extending (as all orthodox theologians admit that the number of the damned far exceeds that of the saved), and he is well entitled to boast in the words of the poet : “ To reign is worth ambition though in Hell ; Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.” The old answer to such considerations was that they were horribly profane, and “ must be put down with a strong hand.” They impiously meddled with “mysteries” which man in his fallen state could not fathom, but must reverently adore. To which it is now replied that there is no mystery at all in the matter. Barbarous and cruel ages have ever generated bar­ barous and cruel religions. Nay, obscene and revolting rites and practices, which cannot be named, have been, and still are, sanctioned by religion. These were outgrown by the progressive nations of the West when Christian monotheism pre­ vailed. And now Christian monotheism is sharing the fate of its predecessors ; it is being superseded by the growing con­ science of mankind. But the fact is that these somewhat old-fashioned controversies about the credibility of miracles, the evidences of Christianity, the authenticity of portions of Scripture, and similar topics, are now dwarfed and overshadowed by a far mightier question which has come to the front with great rapidity in this age. The being and attributes of a God have been a subject of esoteric discussion in the schools of philosophers for centuries, but only recently have been seen to pass from the closet to the market-place, and to become one of the deepest questions �THE DECA Y OF BELIEF of the day. No more surprising change of fundamental conceptions will be recorded by the future historians of philosophy than that which has super­ vened in the last twenty-five or thirty years in reference to the idea of God. Up to a recent time the sturdiest sceptics as to the truth of revelation were mostly deists or pantheists, and often repudiated atheism with warmth. The wittiest scoffer who ever attacked Christianity, Voltaire, was a firm deist, and declared that if God did not exist he would have to be invented. The extreme school of Diderot and D’Holbach, even in the sceptical eighteenth century, failed of a wide acceptance. Now the conception of God is freely treated by many of the leaders of philosophical and scientific opinion as a transitory phase of thought which the growth of knowledge has finally terminated. The natural history and evolution of the idea of God is traced in calm outline from its cradle to its grave—from its nascent form in Animism to its metaphysical presenta­ tion as an inscrutable First Cause, the absolute, unconditioned, and unrelated to the phenomenal world. The idea of God has been “ defecated to a pure transparency,” as one eminent writer phrases it; it has been “ deanthropomorphised,” to use the language of another. A new and widely-current word has been invented to designate the large class of persons (mostly persons of exceptional knowledge and ability) who refuse to entertain any more the idea of a single divine Being, maker of all things in heaven and earth. Agnostics are to be met with on every side ; the place of honour is given to their articles in the most popular monthly reviews; and, just as in the fourth century the mysteries of the Trinity and the Incarnation were discussed in the streets of Constantinople by shopkeepers and their customers, so now, at dinner parties and gatherings of both sexes, the existence of God emerges from time to time as a topic of conversa­ tion, ending often in negative conclusions. Every middle-aged man can remember a 2I time when such a transformation of sentiments and opinions would have appeared beyond the pale of possibility. As in the case of the Christian theology, the difficulties are twofold! intellectual and moral, which have extin­ guished in many minds the traditional belief in a Supreme Being. So long as men were able and content to believe in an anthropomorphic deity—an infinitely glorified and exalted man—then difficul­ ties were not perceived; a feeling also of religious awe daunted the mind from looking up and scrutinising even its own conceptions with a steady gaze. But the growth of knowledge and a higher morality have made the concep­ tion of an anthropomorphic God less and less endurable, even to professed theologians, who have been as ready as philosophers to dehumanise the deity. But the difficulty is that, in proportion as the conception of God is stripped of its human attributes and removed away into the absolute, in the same proportion does the conception cease to offer an object capable of exciting human sym­ pathy, and, what is not less important, does it cease to be conceivable. “Simi­ larly with the logical incongruities^ more and more conspicuous to growing intelligence. Passing over the familiar difficulties—that sundry of the implied divine traits are in contradiction with the divine attributes otherwise ascribed; that a god who repents of what he has done must be lacking either in power or foresight; that his anger presupposes an occurrence that has been contrary to his intention, and so indicates defect of means—we come to the greater difficulty: that such emotions, like all emotions, can exist only in a conscious­ ness which is limited. Every emotion has its antecedent ideas, and antecedent ideas are habitually supposed to occur in God. He is represented as seeing and hearing this or the other, and as being emotionally affected thereby. That is, the conception of a divinity possessing these traits of character ntcessarily continues anthropomorphic, �28 THE SERVICE OF MAN not only in the sense that the emotions ascribed are like those of human beings, but also in the sense that they form parts of a consciousness which, like the human consciousness, is formed of successive states. And such a con­ ception of the divine consciousness is irreconcilable with the unchangeableness otherwise alleged, and with the omnis­ cience otherwise alleged. For a con­ sciousness, constituted of ideas and feelings caused by objects and occur­ rences, cannot be simultaneously occu­ pied with all objects and all occurrences throughout the universe. To believe in a divine consciousness, men must refrain from thinking what is meant by con­ sciousness—must stop short with verbal propositions; and propositions which they are debarred from rendering into thought will more and more fail to satisfy them. Of course, like difficulties present themselves when the will of God is spoken of. So long as we refrain from giving a definite meaning to the word ‘ will,’ we may say that it is possessed by the Cause of all things, as readily as we may say that love of approbation is possessed by a circle; but when, from the words, we pass to the thoughts they stand for, we find that we can no more unite in consciousness the terms of the one proposition than we can those of the other. Whoever conceives of any other will than his own must do so in terms of his own will, which is the sole will directly known to him, all other wills being only inferred. But will, as such, is conscious, if it presupposes a motive, a prompting desire of some kind; absolute indifference excludes the con­ ception of will. Moreover, will, as implying a prompting desire, connotes some end contemplated as one to be achieved, and ceases with the achieve­ ment of it; some other will referring to some other end taking its place. That is to say, will, like emotion, necessarily supposes a series of states of conscious­ ness. The conception of a divine will, derived from the human will, involves, like it, localisation in space and tinlfe; the willing of each end excluding from consciousness, for an interval, the willing of other ends, and therefore being incon­ sistent with that omnipresent activity which simultaneously works out an infinity of ends. It is the same with the ascription of intelligence. Not to dwell on the seriality and limitation implied as before, we may note that intelligence, as alone conceivable by us, presupposes existence independent of it and objective to it. It is carried on in terms of changes primarily wrought by alien activities—the impressions gener­ ated by things beyond consciousness and the ideas derived from such impressions. To speak of an intelligence which exists in the absence of all such alien activities is to use a meaningless word. If to the corollary that the First Cause, considered as intelligent, must be continually affected by independent objective activities, it is replied that these have become such by act of creation, and were previously included in the First Cause; then the reply is that, in such case, the First Cause could, before their creation, have had nothing to generate in it such changes as those constituting what we call intelligence, and must therefore have been unintelligent at the time when intelligence was most called for. Hence it is clear that the intelligence ascribed answers in no respect to that which we know by the name. It is intelligence out of which all the characters consti­ tuting it have vanished.”1 On the moral side it is found impossible to reconcile the attributes of mercy and benevolence in the Creator with the con­ dition of the animal world, which presents an almost continued scene of carnage and cruelty, and has done so from its commencement. Not only are the stronger carnivora fashioned and armed for the purpose of hunting and killing their prey—a gazelle or antelope, in a state of nature, is compelled to fly three times daily for its life—but innumerable 1 Herbert Spencer, Nineteenth Century Re­ view, 1885. �WHY MEN HESITATE parasites exist in the bodies and at the expense of animals generally much their superiors. “ Of the animal kingdom as a whole, more than half the species are parasites.” If each individual species, as Agassiz said, is an “ embodied creative thought of God,” his benevolence must be acknowledged to be of a singular character. The best apologists admit that a mere metaphysical deity, an absolute First Cause defecated to a pure transparency, is not enough. What they wish to restore is a belief in the God to whom they learned to pray by their mother’s knee. And they are abundantly justified from their point of view in such a wish. The only God whom Western Europeans, with a Christian ancestry of a thousand years behind them, can worship, is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ; or, rather, of St. Paul, St. Augustine, St. Bernard, and of the innumerable “blessed saints,” canonised or not, who peopled •, the Ages of Faith. No one wants, no | one cares for, an abstract God, an Un­ j knowable, an Absolute, with whom we stand in no human or intelligible relation. What pious hearts wish to feel and believe is the existence, “ behind the veil” of the visible world, of an invisible Personality, friendly to man, at once a brother and God. The unequalled potency of Chris­ tianity as a religion of the heart has ever consisted in the admirable conception of the Man God, Jesus Christ. Even a I power hostile to man, if conceived as I embodied in a person, has been felt pre­ ferable to vague, passionless, unintelligent force; because a hostile person could be propitiated, could be appealed to, could be brought over to mercy and goodwill ; by prayer and sacrifice. That is to say, I that an anthropomorphic God is the only | God whom men can worship, and also I the God whom modern thought finds it increasingly difficult to believe in. I Chapter III. WHY MEN HESITATE The series of arguments and considera- : has Rationalism, after such brilliant tions against the current theology, of j victories, not triumphed completely ? which a very imperfect summary was Why is the British Sunday without a attempted in the last chapter, might parallel in Europe ? Why on that day seem sufficient to bring about a rapid are museums and theatres still closed, extinction of the vulgar belief; and and the churches and chapels full ? The possibly that extinction is not so far off obvious answer that we are the most as both those who wish it, and those conservative of races is not satisfactory. who deprecate it, may be apt to think. We can overturn quickly enough institu­ Still, whatever may be the case in tions with which we arc really dis­ France and Germany, Christianity, if contented. The inference is that the moribund, is by no means dead, in this mass of Englishmen, in spite of the wide country at least: the land which has prevalence of agnostic views, are not yet done most to work out the philosophy satisfied in their hearts that an improved of Evolution is perhaps still the most substitute for Christianity can be found. Christian in faith and practice remaining Intellectually, their allegiance to it has in the world. The question arises, Why been much shaken, but their feelings �THE SERVICE OF MAN have not been changed in a similar degree. This may be explained in two ways. First, a certain slow-footed sure­ ness in the national character, which refuses to move with haste in matters of paramount importance. Among the peoples who embraced the Reformation, the English were the most tardy in their open and general revolt from Rome. Secondly, in no country has Christianity of late years been less offensive to any class of dissidents. Unlimited religious liberty has permitted every shade of religious or irreligious sentiment to assert itself after its own heart, in its own fashion. Even the Established Church, once so insolent and oppressive, has, on the whole, shown a wise spirit of compromise and toleration, and is, perhaps, less hated now than at any past period of its history. A touch of genuine persecution would long ago have caused an explosion, which would not only have annihilated the Establishment, but have reacted injuriously on the other sects. In the absence of the stimulus given by persecution even to unpopular opinions, agnosticism has had to make its way on its own merits, so to speak, on a fair field, and certainly with no favour. Among certain groups, with whom intellectual cultivation is the main business of life, it has had a great success, far greater than could have been expected in only a recent past; but it has not extended and penetrated through the great mass of the middle and upper classes. And the obvious reason is that agnosticism, so far, has not only not had feeling with it, but it has had feeling against it. A belief in the unknowable kindles no enthusiasm. Science wins a verdict in its favour before any competent intellectual tribunal; but numbers of men, and the vast majority of women, ignore the finding of the jury of experts. They cling passionately to the belief in the supernatural; they listen even with patience and flattering hope to the deeply suspicious and suspected pro­ fessors of spiritualism and thought-read­ ing, athirst for a hint, a suggestion, an evanescent fact, which would lighten the gloom of the grave. Above all, they will believe, in spite of science and the laws of their consciousness, in a good God, who loves them and cares for them and their little wants and trials, and will, if they only please him, take them at last to his bosom, and “ wipe the tears for ever from their eyes.” “ A. l’enfant il faut sa mere, A l’ame il faut son Dieu.” In this respect, at least, Carlyle was a true son of his age, and expressed one of its deepest heart-pangs in that bitter cry of the Everlasting No :—“ To me the Universe was all void of Life, of Purpose, of Volition, even of Hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable Steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead in­ difference, to grind me limb from limb. O the vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and Mill of Death ! Why was the Living banished thither companionless, con­ scious ? Why, if there is no Devil; nay, unless the Devil is your God ?” That is the true voice of a Christian man who has lost his faith. Some thousand or fifteen hundred years of Christian train­ ing has given this passionate turn to the feelings, this infinite craving for sympathy with the Invisible Lord; who must exist, men fondly say, because to doubt him is to despair. Again Carlyle is representa­ tive : “ Fore-shadows, call them rather fore-splendours—of that Truth, and Beginning of Truth, fell mysteriously over my soul. Sweeter than Day-spring to the Shipwrecked in Nova Zembla; ah ! like the mother’s voice to her little child that strays bewildered, weeping, in unknown tumults ; like soft streamings of celestial music to my too exasperated heart, came that Evangel. The Universe is not dead and demoniacal, a charnelhouse with spectres; but godlike, and my Father’s !” How little the celestial music soothed the exasperated heart of the care-laden man, his tragic biography is a melancholy witness. �WHY MEN HESITA TE Though perhaps the chief, the yearn­ ing for divine sympathy is not the only ground of men’s hesitation to follow the guidance of intellect in this matter. The idea still prevails that Christianity is, after all, the best support of morality extant. What system of ethics, it is asked, can compare with the Sermon on the Mount ? There are even some who hold that paradise and hell can ill be spared ; the one as incentive to good, the other as a deterrent from evil. How can you expect, it is inquired, self-sacrifice, devotion to duty, if man is to die the death of a dog, and to look for no here­ after? It is assumed as obvious to common-sense that in that case we shall eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. Self-indulgence the most gross, crime the most unscrupulous, are taken for granted to be the natural and spontaneous pre­ dispositions of man, if he did not dread having to pay dear for them in the next world. Wickedness and sin are what he naturally likes, virtue and righteousness what he naturally detests. The pleasures of lying, robbery, impurity, and murder are beyond dispute j they would fill the cup of enjoyment to the brim, could one only get it without fear of after-conse­ quences in the lake of brimstone. Who can be so ignorant of human nature, nay, of his own heart, as to doubt of these all too fascinating temptations and attractions ? As it is, even with the fires of Tophet flaming in the distance, men cannot resist their allurements, or prefer “ The lilies and languors of virtue To the roses and raptures of vice.” Therefore, it is only too certain that a general abrogation of Christianity would be at once followed by a reign of universal licence; and, by the lower order of apologists, it is not seldom broadly hinted that that is the desired result. Take away the mingled fear and hope of a future state of rewards and punishments, and what possible check can be imagined to the universal indulgence of unbridled desires ? Without staying to point out that reasoners of this class, whatever their other merits, cannot be complimented on their estimate of human nature, and that they, at least, can with little grace reproach any opponents with degrading man, we have to remark that the con­ clusions of the reason, so far as they are adverse to Christianity, are here met not with arguments, but with threats, with appeals to the passions of a very powerful kind; and that it can excite no surprise that, on the whole, passion has the advantage in the conflict. We shall try to examine these points with some care, and inquire (i) if religion has really been in the past the solace and consolation it is asserted ; (2) whether Christianity is such a stay and support to morality as it is said to be; and (3) whether a general outbreak of crime and debauchery may be expected as a natural result of the disappearance of the established theo­ logy? �32 THE SERVICE OF MAN Chapter IV. THE ALLEGED CONSOLATIONS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION It is worthy of remark that, in propor­ tion as Christianity has met with intel­ lectual opposition, a progressive tendency has been shown by divines to veil the harsher and more inhuman features of their creed. The older race of theo­ logians, with no fear of criticism before their eyes, spoke out freely; they preached high doctrine, and found an austere pleasure in dwelling on the awful judg­ ments of God. The small number of the saved, the multitude of the damned, the narrowness of the way which leads to life, the breadth of that which leads to destruction, were topics on which they loved to dwell and the congregation to ponder. To a large extent this tone has been dropped, and replaced by one to which it is the direct contrary. Preachers prefer to dwell on the cheerful and bright side of religion—on its glorious promises, on the delights of the heavenly Jerusalem. They certainly speak with much less unction of the “wrath to come”; and if they say nothing to impair the belief in God’s justice, which leads him to punish sin with endless torments, they enlarge more on his “mercy” and “the things he hath prepared for them that love him.” In some cases religion is chiefly recom­ mended as offering a graceful and pleasing appendix to life, as depriving death of its sting and the grave of its victory, and opening a prospect up to the sunlit heavens, amid clouds and glory and the most sublime scenery that can be imagined. This change of tone, which, as a broad matter of fact, cannot, I apprehend, be denied, has followed on as a wide result of the great humanitarian movement which began towards the middle of the eighteenth century. When legislation and manners were equally marked by cruelty; when criminals were tortured to death, and prisoners kept in noisome dungeons reeking with jail fever and swarming with vermin; when popular sports largely consisted in inflicting pain on men and animals—it is no wonder that gloomy and inhuman views of religion passed without challenge, or even with favour. The alteration of feeling, together with its cause, were quaintly expressed by an American divine, who had been reproached by an English visitor for too slight an insistence on the eternal damna­ tion of the wicked : “ Our people would not stand it, sir,” was the reply. But the point which more immediately con­ cerns us is whether the old religion of terror, or its modified and softened modern version, was or is such a source of solace and inward joy as is commonly assumed. Any one who has had the privilege of knowing intimately one of those rare and beautiful souls in whom a single-hearted piety seems spontaneous would be slow to deny that such solace may exist. The meek and chastened spirits do occasionally know that peace of God which passeth all understanding. But it is equally certain that that peace is subject to painful interruptions, and that in almost exact proportion with the growth of a tender and watchful con­ science does the liability to such eclipses increase. It is the presumptuous, not the truly devout, who dwell always in a complacent conviction of their accep­ tance and favour with God. All spiritual doctors abound in warnings against the two opposite dangers, on the one hand, of over-confidence, self-righteousness, Pharisaism ; on the other, of despair and hopeless despondency of ever pleasing God. The proud content of the Pharisee �THE ALLEGED CONSOLATIONS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 33 can never be put to the credit of religion, not worthy of thy consolation, nor of as it is the temper which is most of all any spiritual visitation; and, therefore, thou dealest justly with me when thou condemned by true piety. “ Humility, leavest me poor and desolate. For if I and modesty of judgment and of hope, could shed tears as the sea, yet should I arc very good instruments to procure mercy and a fair reception at the day of not be wrorthy of thy consolation. Where­ fore I am worthy only to be scourged our death; but presumption or bold and punished, because I have grievously opinion serves no end of God or man, and is always imprudent, even fatal, and and often offended thee, and in many things greatly sinned; so, then, on a true of all things in the world is its own greatest enemy : for the more any man account, I have not deserved even the presumes the greater reason he has to smallest consolation.”1 Cardinal Wiseman, in his preface to fear.”1 Any solace, therefore, of this kind, derived from religion, must be the English translation of the works of repudiated and struck off the account as St. John of the Cross, has the following illegitimate and in a manner fraudulent remarkable passage : “ It may be con­ —a deadly spiritual sin seizing the reward sidered a rule in this highest spiritual of perfected saintliness. It is the anxious life that, before it is attained, there must and careworn penitent whom we have to be a period of severe probation, lasting consider, those who, when they have often many years, and separating it from done all that they can, still regard them­ the previous state, which may have been selves as unprofitable servants. Theo­ one of most exalted virtue. Probably, many whom the Catholic Church honours logians prescribe elaborate remedies against despair as a “ temptation and a as saints have never received this singular horrid sin ”; but it is a sin to which the gift. But in reading the biography of humble, the meek, and the truly devout such as have been favoured with it, we shall invariably find that the possession are exposed, and not the wicked and worldly. How often it has been pushed of it has been preceded, not only by to the destruction of reason, resulting a voluntary course of mortification of in religious madness, the statistics of sense, fervent devotion, constant medi­ insanity are there to show. Even when tation, and separation from the world, it stops short of this fearful consumma­ but also by a trying course of dryness, tion, and appears in the milder form of weariness of spirit, insipidity of devo­ desponding anxiety, and fear lest the tional duties, and, what is infinitely sinner has lost favour in the sight worse, dejection, despondency, tempta­ of God, those moments of coldness tion to give up all in disgust and almost and tediousness of spirit form a heavy despair. During this tremendous proba­ deduction from the hours of peace and tion the soul is dark, parched, and way­ happiness enjoyed between, as every less, as earth without water, as one book of devotion, from the Psalms staggering across a desert, or, to rise to downward, abundantly shows. “ My a nobler illustration, like Him remotely God, my God, look upon me; why hast who lay on the ground on Olivet, loathing the cup which He had longed for, beyond thou forsaken me: and art so far from my health, and from the words of my the sweet chalice which He had drunk complaint ? O my God, I cry in the with His apostles just before.” A prince day-time, but thou hearest not: and in of the Church may, no doubt, be trusted to speak correctly on this matter. the night-season also I take no rest.” In order to show that these afflictions Thomas a Kempis denies that the are not peculiar to Catholics, a few truly contrite sinner has any ground even sentences may with advantage be quoted to hope for consolation. “ Lord, I am ’ Holy Dying, ch. v., § 6. 1 Imitation, iii. 52. n �34 THE SERVICE OF MAN from that strange book of Bunyan’s, Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners:—“ And now was I both a burden and terror to myself, nor did I ever so know as now what it was to be weary of my life and yet afraid to die. Ob, how gladly now would I have been anybody but myself, anything but a man, and in any condition but my own, for there was nothing did pass more fre­ quently over my mind than that it was impossible for me to be forgiven my transgression and to be saved from wrath to come........ I found it hard work now to pray to God, because despair was swallowing me up. I thought I was, as with a tempest, driven away from God, for always when I cried to God for mercy this would come in, ‘ ’Tis too late; I am lost: God has let me fall, not to my correction, but to my condemnation.’ About this time I did light on that dread­ ful story of that miserable mortal, Francis Spira—a book that was to my troubled spirit as salt when rubbed into a fresh wound. Every sentence in that book, every groan of that man, with all the rest of his actions in his griefs; as his tears, his prayers, his gnashing of teeth, his wringing of hands, his twisting and languishing and pining away under that mighty hand of God that was upon him, were as knives and daggers in my soul. Especially that sentence of his was frightful to me : ‘ Man knows the begin­ ning of sin, but who bounds the issues thereof?’ Then would the former sen­ tence as the conclusion of all fall like an hot thunderbolt against my conscience, for you know how that afterwards, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected, for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears. “ Then should I be struck into a very great trembling, insomuch that at some­ times I could for whole days together feel my very body as well as my mind to shake and totter under the sense of this dreadful judgment of God that should fall on those that have sinned that most fearful and unpardonable sin. I felt also such a clogging and heat at my stomach, by reason of this my terror, that I was especially at sometimes as if my breast­ bone would split asunder: then I thought concerning that of Judas, who, by his falling headlong, burst asunder, and all his bowels gushed out.” If we admit that such periods of depression are at last more than com­ pensated by the ecstasy which may follow them, yet it is obvious that the religious life, in its highest forms, is very far from uniformly leading through paths of pleasantness and peace, as is sometimes assumed. A state bordering on despair, which lasts for years, is no light matter; and it would be no conclusive proof of a carnal mind to hesitate before encounter­ ing such anguish, even with the ultimate certainty of its transmutation into ineffable joy. But, as Cardinal Wiseman tells us, there is no certainty of such in this life: only in heaven can the Christian hope for an adequate return for his spiritual trials in this world. “ If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable,” said St. Paul of himself and fellow Christians; and it follows that neither in the design nor in the result is Christianity adapted to confer the highest earthly happiness : it is not a present solace, but the promise of one hereafter. A future life, however, is one of the most enormous assumptions, with­ out proof, ever made; and yet, on this immense postulate, all the alleged con­ solations of religion of necessity hang. By considering the case of the truly religious, we have discussed the question, on the most favourable terms to Chris­ tianity, as a source of happiness. The profoundly pious are at times refreshed with the “ beatific vision ” in the course of their pilgrimage. But there are numbers of the half - converted, the ■worldly, the openly wicked, who believe enough to be full of anxiety and fear, and yet never attain to assurance of complete peace with God; and perhaps these constitute the majority of professing Christians. If you obtain access to their inmost thoughts, you will rarely find that �THE ALLEGED CONSOLATIONS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 35 religion has been a consolation to them, but a perpetual source of inward unrest and alarm, though they never have had the strength or the grace to turn finally to God. These pains of the spirit are by no means the only trials which the Christian has to encounter. The preva­ lence of heresy and schism has ever afflicted devout men in proportion to their devoutness. One of the peculiar­ ities of this age, indeed, is the extra­ ordinary cessation of controversy and absence of new doctrines within the Christian communion. Never, perhaps, since the Council of Jerusalem, has there been so marked an abeyance of serious theological dispute. Middleaged and old men, who can remember the Tractarian controversy and the Gorham controversy, when the coun­ try was filled with tumult about matters of faith, can appreciate the strange, great calm which now prevails. Whether true believers have any reason to rejoice in the change may be doubted. The differences within have been fol­ lowed by far more serious hostilities from without, and it is the deadly war -with the sceptic and the infidel which justly pre-occupies the earnest thoughts of Christian men. This last state, which is worse than the first, tends to make us forget how painful were the anxieties as to the threatened prevalence of “grave error,” whenever serious controversies arose: what fiery pamphlets were published by deans, archdeacons, and even by bishops; what agitated letters appeared even in the secular newspapers ; what meetings were convened, and what danger to Christian verity was apprehended if the faithful did not see to it. The world has rolled so far away from this state of things that even those who witnessed it retain but an imperfect recollection of the remote scene. Who can easily recall the excite­ ment consequent on the publication of so anodyne a work as Professor Jowett’s edition of St. Paul’s Epistles? How difficult to remember the time when the illustrious Master of Balliol was a perse­ cuted man, considered more than passing rich with forty pounds a year, for teaching Greek as it had not been taught by a Regius professor from time immemorial? But faith was still lively and vigilant, even in that recent past—a very pale reflection of its former brightness, no doubt. To realise what it once was, and what mental distress it could cause, we must have recourse to reading; and, with such historical imagination as we can command, revive an extinct con­ troversy : not one of the mightier disputes of the sixteenth century, the dust-cloud of which reached up to the heavens and obscured the stars; but a relatively minor one, and only an episode in that, the fate of Jacqueline Pascal. Jacqueline, the younger sister of Blaise Pascal, was remarkable for talent and beauty even in her own family, in which beauty and talent were hereditary gifts. Like Pope, she lisped in numbers, and composed verses which were not con­ temptible before she had learned to read. Her grace of person and manner caused her to be invited to play in a comedy before Richelieu, and, though only nine years of age, she so charmed the Cardinal that he recalled her father, who had incurred his displeasure, from exile. We have letters of hers written in her twen­ tieth year, in which she gives to her sister, Madame Perier, a lucid and intelligent account of a conference between her brother Blaise and Descartes, when they discussed the discovery of the barometer, and the phenomena of atmospheric pressure. But religion already occupied all her thoughts, and she resolved to become a nun of Port Royal, though, out of deference to her father’s wish, she refrained from taking the veil until after his death. “ She made all her prepara­ tions in my presence,” says her sister, Madame Perier, “ and fixed the. fourth of January as the day for entering the convent. On the eve of that day she begged me to speak about it to my brother, to avoid taking him by surprise. ....... He was much touched, and retired �36 THE SERVICE OF MAN very sad to his room without seeing my sister, who was in a small apartment where she was wont to pray. She did not leave it till my brother had gone, fearing that the sight of her might give him pain. I gave her the tender mes­ sages he had charged me with, after which we all went to bed. But I could not sleep. Although I approved heartily of her resolution, its magnitude so filled my mind that I lay awake all night. At seven the next morning, as I saw that Jacqueline did not rise, I thought that she also had not slept, and I found her fast asleep. The noise I made .awakened her, and she asked me the time. I told her, and inquired how she felt, and if she had slept well. She replied she was well, and had had a good night. Then she arose, dressed herself, and went away ; doing this, as all things, with a tranquillity and composure of soul which cannot be conceived. We took no farewell of each other from fear of breaking down, and I turned away from her path when I saw her ready to go out. In this way she left the world; it was the fourth of January, of the year 1652, she being twenty-six years and three months old.” Sister Jacqueline, of Saint Euphemia Pascal, was for nine years a nun at Port Royal, and became subprioress and mistress of the Novices. In the latter character the duty of teaching young children to read devolved upon her, and she introduced into the convent the new system of giving merely the phonetic value of the letters and not calling them by misleading names, which was the invention of her brother Blaise, and obtained afterwards great renown in the “Grammaire Generale” of Port Royal. But the pious Jansenist foundation was already doomed. The Jesuits had not yet avenged the Provincial Letters. Strong with the support of the pope and the king, they produced a formulary, the signature of which was compulsory on all ecclesiastics. It referred to the eternal question of the Five Propositions, ind declared that they were in the book Augustinus of Bishop Jansenius, and were contrary to the faith. Much subtlety was employed to find a means of signing it in a non-natural sense, and the chiefs of the Jansenist party, to escape destruction, visibly wavered. But Jacqueline, like her brother Blaise, was made of sterner stuff, and resisted all compromise with passionate zeal. At last the great authority of Arnauld and Nicole prevailed upon their followers to accept the bitter cup prepared for them by their enemies. Pascal swooned away when this decision was taken. Jacqueline yielded at last to the pressure of her superiors, and signed the formulary, but with such grief and anguish of soul that she predicted she would die of it; as, indeed, she did in less than six months. The affliction of the just and the prosperity of the wicked has always been a serious difficulty to pious persons who combined reflection with devotion. “ Wherefore do the wicked live, become old,, yea, are mighty in power? Their seed is established in their sight with them, and their offspring before their eyes. Their houses are safe from fear, neither is the rod of God upon them.”1 And the prophet goes on to say in his anguish : “ God hath delivered me to the ungodly, and turned me over into the hands of the wicked........ He breaketh me with breach upon breach, he runneth upon me like a giant........ My face is foul with weeping, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death ; not for any injustice in mine hands : also my prayer is pure.”2 Probably few religious persons have escaped the bitterness of feeling that they were unjustly chastened, that the rod of God was upon them and not upon the wicked. They no doubt repelled the thought with an “ Aflage Satana I ” regarding it as a snare of the tempter. But because the thought was banished from the mind, was the load removed from the heart ? This is a trial which theologians must admit is all 1 Job. xxi. 7-9. 2 Job. xvi. II, 14-17. �THE ALLEGED CONSOLATIONS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 37 their own—a clear addition to the weary weight “ of all this unintelligible world.” Agnostics at least, when smitten by the sharp arrows of fate, by disease, poverty, bereavement, do not complicate their misery by anxious misgivings and painful wonder why they are thus treated by the God of their salvation. The pitiless, brazen heavens overarch them and believers alike; they bear their trials, or their hearts break, according to their strength. But one pang is spared them, the mystery of God’s wrath that he should visit them so sorely. The exceeding bitter cry of the dying Jesus, “ My God, my God, why hast thou for­ saken me?” never comes to their lips, for it never rises in their hearts. “Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.” A fitting yet terrible end of the Passion ; for what more awful thought could come to a devout believer in God than that he was forsaken of God ? It may well have been tin's, even more than the nails through his feet and hands and the spear in his side, which broke the heart of the Son of man, and made Him yield up the ghost. Christ’s followers have discovered consolations and viatica in the hour of death which were denied Him. But the most truly humble and devout at times find their chief anguish there where they have most looked for relief. A more pious, God-fearing woman than the charming French poetess, Madame Desbordes Valmore, could not easily be found. But her life was one long scene of bitter trial, poverty, and bereavement. At last the cup runs over, and this plaintive cry escapes her: “Yes, Camille, it is very poignant; here I am alone, without brothers or sisters, alone and severed from all the dear souls I have so loved, without the con­ solation of surviving them and being able to accomplish their desire, which was ever to do some good........ What can one say in the presence of these decrees of Providence? If one has deserved them, the case is more sad. I often search my heart and try to find out what may have caused me to be so heavily smitten by our dear Creator ; for it is impossible for his justice to punish thus without a cause, and that thought very often suffices to overwhelm me.”1 The above extracts will probably be considered sufficient to show that it is by no means so plain as it is often assumed to be that the loss of the Christian religion would deprive men of immense consolation and an abiding source of inward happiness amid the trials of life. There is a serious set-off on the other side, and this was admitted with no difficulty in the days when the faith was menaced by no danger. “ Do not seek ” says Jeremy Taylor, “ for deliciousness and sensible sweetness in the actions of religion, but only regard the duty and the conscience of it. For although, in the beginning of religion most frequently, and at other times irregularly, God complies with our infir­ mity, and encourages out duty with little overflowings of spiritual joy and sensible pleasure and delicacies in prayer, so as we seem to feel some little nearer of heaven, and great refreshment from the spirit of consolation; yet this is not always safe for us to have, neither safe for us to expect and look for; and when we dor it is apt to make us cool in our inquiries and waitings upon Christ when we want them ; it is running after him, not for the miracles, but for the loaves; not for the wonderful things of God and the desire of pleasing him, but for the pleasure of pleasing ourselves.”2 Now­ adays the effort made is in the opposite direction, and to dwell on the “ sensible pleasures ” and “ delicacies in prayer,” in order to enhance the contrast between the bright glory and prospects afforded by the religious life, and the gloomy and hopeless future which are supposed to afflict the infidel. The object now is to make religion attractive, and it has been pursued with very marked success. Let any one compare the taste and beauty 1 Sainte-Bcuve, Lundis, vol. xii. 2 ZfoZj' Living, cap. iv., § 7. �38 THE SERVICE OF MAN of a choral service in a modern church Meditations of James Hervey, which ran or cathedral with the harsh and grating through numerous editions when it first ugliness which made “ going to church ” appeared, and was still a favourite with in the days of our youth an ascetic pious folk in the earlier portion of the exercise. The coarse, untutored voice present century. Such pompous and of the village shoemaker or tailor who tawdy fustian one would hope could acted as clerk; the hideous boxes called hardly have been accepted for eloquence, pews; the dolorous and droning music ; had it not been supposed to convey vital the whole framed in a choice specimen religious truth. As a poetaster of the of Georgian architecture, barbaric with day expressed it: white-wash and clumsy ornament, will still “ In these loved scenes what rapturous graces return to the memory in a dreamy mood. shine, These things have gone, and are replaced Live in each leaf, and breathe in every line ; What sacred beauties beam throughout the by what is very often a real artistic suc­ whole, cess ; good music and singing, the dim To charm the sense and steal upon the soul.” religious light of stained windows, flowers, mosaics, or paintings, in Soul and sense are charmed in this wise: churches often not untouched by the “The wicked seem to lie here, like spirit of mediaeval beauty. This great malefactors in a deep and strong dun­ reform in the ordering of divine service geon ; reserved against the day of trial. has passed beyond the limits of the ‘ Their departure was without peace.’ ■Establishment, and penetrated even Clouds of horror sat lowering upon their among the dissenters, whose chapels no closing eyelids; most sadly foreboding longer display the resolute deformity of the blackness of darkness for ever. a past age. The outward change has When the last sickness seized their been preceded and accompanied by a frame, and the inevitable change ad­ deeper inward change; the doctrine of vanced ; when they saw the fatal arrow terror has been laid aside, and replaced fitting to the strings; saw the deadly by a doctrine of mildness and hope, so archer aiming at their life; and felt the much so that few realise the gloomy envenomed shaft fastened in their vitals horrors of the old creed. The younger —good God ! what fearfulness came generation has hardly an idea of the : upon them ! What horrible dread over­ dismal spiritual pit in which their fathers whelmed them ! How did they stand lived. In the eighteenth century the shuddering upon the tremendous preci­ case was still worse. The chill shade of pice, excessively afraid to die, yet utterly religious dread spread beyond the circle unable to live.—O ! what pale reviews, of the professedly devout, and darkened what startling prospects, conspire to life and literature. Only profane revellers augment their sorrows I They look back­ ■ passed out of it, and their example was not ward ; and behold ! a most melancholy edifying. In what a cavern of black scene! Sins unrepented of, mercy slighted, thoughts did Samuel Johnson pass his and the day of grace ending. They look life, and what a fearful “ Horror of the forward, and nothing presents itself but Last” got hold of him in his latter days. the righteous Judge, the dreadful tribunal, Edward Young, who inveighed against and a most solemn reckoning. They wealth and honours in order to obtain roll around their affrighted eyes on them, adjusted with skill and care the attending friends, and, if accomplices in -strains of his venal muse to the popular debauchery, it sharpens their anguish to taste, and sang that consider this further aggravation of their guilt, That they have not sinned alone, “A God all mercy is a God unjust.” but drawn others into the snare. If Few books in the last century were more religious acquaintance, it strikes a fresh popular with serious persons than the gash into their hearts, to think of never �THE^LLEGED CONSOL A ELONS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 39 seeing them any more, but only at an unapproachable distance, separated by the unpassable gulph.”1 Will any one presume to say that, for one death-bed which has been smoothed by religion, a thousand have not been turned into beds of torture by such teaching as this ? But we must go back to the palmy days of Calvinism, to Scotland in the seventeenth century, to realise fully the revolting devil-worship which once passed under the name of Christianity, and, what is more, really was Christianity, gospel­ truth, supported by texts, at every point taken from Scripture. No class of litera­ ture lies buried deeper in oblivion than old-fashioned theological literature. Its brilliant but transitory life is followed by a perennial death, from which there is no resurrection. Dead divinity is the deadest thing that ever lived. Only now and then a literary historian recalls one of these vanished spectres; the mass of believers are content to ignore their spiritual ancestry. Take the case of the Rev. Thomas Boston, a minister of the Church of Scotland, who lived in the latter end of the seventeenth and begin­ ning of the eighteenth century. Boston was one of the most shining lights of the Scottish Church, and his most famous book, Human Nature in its Fourfold State, was for a long period almost placed on a level with Holy Scripture. It is certainly a very wonderful book, written with great power, and eloquence of a kind which might well impose upon readers who accepted the writer’s pre­ mises. It seems written in a white heat of sustained passion, in which the devil­ worshipper (for Boston is nothing else), persuaded that he had conciliated his devil for his own purposes, deals dam­ nation on all poor wretches not so favoured, with an exultant and fiery joy which is really astounding to witness. The man would have delighted, one would say, to be a stoker in the infernal regions. Out of a volume of five hundred * Meditations among the Tombs, vol. i., p. 94. pages I select a page or two which are nothing but average specimens of a tone of thought which I apprehend would be generally repudiated by theologians now­ adays ; so far have we declined from Christian verity1:— “ Consider what a God he is with whom thou hast to do, and whose wrath thou art liable unto. He is the God of infinite knowledge and wisdom; so that none of thy sins, however secret, can be hid from him. He infallibly finds out all means whereby wrath maybe executed towards the satisfying of justice. He is of infinite power, and so can do what he will against the sinner. How heavy must the strokes of wrath be which are laid on by an omnipotent hand ! Infinite power can make the sinner prisoner, even when he is in his greatest rage against Heaven. It can bring again the several parcels of dust out of the grave, put them together again, re-unite the soul and body, summon them before the tribunal, hurry them away to the pit, and hold them up with the one hand, through eternity, while they are lashed with the other. He is infinitely just, and there­ fore must punish; it were acting contrary to his nature to suffer the sinner to escape wrath. Hence the execution of his wrath is pleasing to him; for though the Lord hath no delight in the death of a sinner, as it is the destruction of his own creature, yet he delights in it, as it is the execution of justice. ‘ Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest.’ Mark the reason : ‘ For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness’ (Ps. xi. 6, 7); ‘I will cause my fury to rest upon them, and I will be comforted’ (Ezek. v. 13); ‘I also will laugh at your calamity ’ (Prov. i. 26). Finally, he lives for ever, to pursue the quarrel. Let us therefore conclude, ‘ It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.’ ”2 1 Boston’s book first appeared in 1720. It has been republished by the Religious Tract Society. 2 T. Boston, Human Nature in its Fourfold State. The Misery of Man's Natural State. Motive 4. �40 TIIE SERVICE OF MAN Again, in another place of the same which makes them, like Pashur (Jen chapter, Boston says : “ There is wrath xx. 4), ‘a terror to themselves.’ God upon his soul. He can have no com­ takes the filthy garments of their sins, munion with God ; he is ‘foolish, and which they were wont to sleep in securely, overlays them with brimstone, and sets shall not stand in God’s sight ’ (Ps. v. 5). them on fire about their ears, so they ....... There is war between Heaven and them (natural men), and so all commerce have a hell within them.” It may be doubted if, among all the is cut off........ God casts a portion of worldly goods to them, more or less as a aberrations of the human mind, anything bone is thrown to a dog; but, alas, his so horrible as this was ever attained wrath against them appears, in that they elsewhere; and this was the creed of the poor Scots for more than two hundred get no grace........ They lie open to fearful additional plague on their souls, even in years. In reading the works of such a man as Boston, one is tempted to admit this life. Sometimes they meet with one of his favourite dogmas, that the deadening strokes, silent blows from the heart of man is deceitful above all things hand of an angry god; arrows of wrath, and desperately wicked. He evidently that enter into their souls without noise. ‘ Make the heart of this people fat, and gloats and revels in the ideas of wrath, make their ears heavy, and shut their brimstone, fiery strokes, stunning blows, eyes, lest they see with their eyes ’ (Isa. and all the apparatus of his infernal torture-chamber. There is a sort of vi. 10). God strives with them for a while, and convictions enter their con­ concupiscence of lust in his passion for cruelty; it tickles his prurient appetite, sciences ; but they rebel against the light; and, by a secret judgment, they and reaches to a depravity almost insane. receive a blow on the head; so that If he stood alone, the case would be from that time they do, as it were, live merely one of pathology; but he was a and rot above ground. Their hearts are representative man, and spoke in the deadened, their affections withered, their names of millions in this country and consciences stupefied, and their whole abroad. The power of the human mind souls blasted ; ‘ cast forth as a branch to throw up and nourish poisonous and withered ’ (John xv. 6). They are growths of this kind is a very sad and plagued with judicial blindness. They regrettable one. It has stained with shut their eyes against the light; and blood many pages of history, and is not, they are given over to the devil, the one is sorry to say, an abomination con­ god of this world, to be blinded more fined to Christians. The inhuman fana­ (2 Cor. iv. 4). Yea, ‘ God sends them tics of the French Revolution—-Marat, strong delusions, that they should believe Hebert, Fouquier-Tinville, and Robes­ a lie ’ (2 Thess. ii. 11). Even conscience, pierre—are inferior specimens of the same like a false light on the shore, leads breed. But their lust of cruelty, hideous them upon rocks, by which they are as it was, had not the infinite scope and broken in pieces. They harden them- ■ transcendental character of Boston’s ; selves against God, and he leaves them I yet the Reign of Terror in France, which to Satan and their own hearts, whereby ‘ lasted but a few months, is still pointed they are hardened more and more. to by Christians as a supreme instance They are often ‘ given up unto vile affec­ of the wickedness into which unbelievers tions ’ (Rom. i. 26)........ Sometimes they inevitably fall. The reign of terror in meet with sharp fiery strokes, whereby Scotland, which lasted two centuries, is their souls become like Mount Sinai, quietly dropped out of memory, or where nothing is seen but fire and smoke, certainly is never consigned to the ever­ nothing heard but the thunder of God’s lasting infamy which is supposed to have wrath, and the voice of the trumpet of a overtaken the atheists. On the whole broken law, waxing louder and louder, this is an advantage, and the less we deal �THE ALLEGED CONSOLA LIONS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION 41 in retrospective anathema the better; but then all parties should benefit by the amnesty. Even Carlyle, who ever remained a sort of distorted Calvinist, could see that nothing was gained by “shrieking” over the horrors of the French Revolution ; and agnostics would do well to abstain from hard words about Calvinists. Determinists and evolution­ ists must hold that all phenomena of the human mind, whether welcome or otherwise, had a very good reason, for their existence, in that they were caused like any other phenomena. Calvinistic or Terrorist principles cannot be too forcibly condemned, discouraged, or counteracted. Like frightful forms of disease, they show what terrible evils human nature is exposed to. But we do not properly blame disease, if we are wise; we strive to combat it and prevent its recurring again. The poor victims of disease, whether mental or physical, rather deserve our pity than our scorn. They contracted it because they were exposed to its noxious germs. The antecedent evolution of Scotland and France had produced the moral miasma and the minds ready to receive it, which led to the breaking out of those two dreadful pestilences, Scotch Calvinism and French Terrorism. While they pre­ vailed in their greatest virulence, the minds of men were deformed and made hideous, as their bodies might be by small-pox or elephantiasis. In this slight retrospect over the darker side of theology, I should misrepresent my meaning if I seemed to blame the men who held opinions, according to my view, very pernicious. Our war should not be with men, but with dogmas, principles. The dogmas, under the con­ ditions, were inevitable, just as the Plague of London, under the then conditions of over-crowding and neglect of cleanliness, was inevitable. But we cannot blame the men who suffered from the Plague; we cannot even blame their ignorance of the laws of health, because they could not then have known better. We now do know better, and we keep down the Plague. In the same way, Calvinism was a creed held by men who could not know better. The antecedent history of Scottish thought had led to a super­ stitious adoration of a fragment of old oriental literature, the Bible, which was supposed to contain the authentic will and testament of the Creator of the universe. This supposed divine word had been, so it was thought, somewhat kept in the background and slighted by the powerful Catholic Church, which had reigned supreme for centuries, and pressed on men’s minds with no light yoke. Every word of this old oriental book, very interesting and valuable in its way, as a specimen and picture of primitive culture, was imagined to be in the handwriting of the Most High. Every bloody deed recorded, every fantastic and horrible thought enun­ ciated, such as must appear in such a document or collection of documents compiled in such an age, was regarded as approved and authenticated by Almighty Wisdom. When these and similar facts are considered, it does not seem inexplicable that the Scotch and other Calvinists thought and acted as they did. They came to horrible results and conclusions, but these were logical conclusions from the premises. Similarly Rousseau and Robespierre were the most logical of men. The fault lies in the premises—in the one case, that the Bible is the wTord of God; in the other, that the Contrat Social is the utterance of pure reason. �42 THE SERVICE OF MAN Chapter V. ON CHRISTIANITY AS A GUIDE TO CONDUCT The next point to be considered is whether the Christian religion is really so strong and efficient a support of morality as it is common to suppose. An affirmative answer is generally taken for granted, as if the case were too obvious to admit of doubt or even of argument. The purity and elevation of the ethics of the gospel are indeed often asserted to be a sufficient proof of its divine origin. Those theologians who wince somewhat under the scientific argument against miracles recover all their self-possession when they dwell on the ethical side of their creed. If the casting out of devils from demoniacs is admitted to present difficulties, on the ground that it was and still is a common Eastern superstition to regard lunatics as possessed by evil spirits, a superstition which the evangelists shared with their countrymen and contemporaries, it is maintained that the Sermon on the Mount is its own evidence of divine inspiration. “ Never man spake like this man.” The spiritual depth and sublimity of Christ’s teaching must, it is argued, be superhuman, from the fact that to this day it has never been sur­ passed or approached, and never will be in the most remote future. It is agreed that all the great changes and improve­ ments that have been made in public and private morals, between pagan and modern times, must be set down to the vivifying effects of Christianity, which has raised women, struck the fetters from the limbs of the slave, moralised war, conquest, and commerce—in short, done every good thing that has been done in the last sixteen or eighteen centuries. This is that moral evidence for Chris­ tianity which is far more convincing than the evidence derived from works of power. Not that the latter is to be slighted or ignored; but one speaks to the heart, and must abide valid and persuasive through all time; the other addresses the head, and perhaps may not always be equally cogent. Now, it will not be necessary for the purpose of this inquiry to dispute the claims thus advanced. Many of them indeed are obviously without foundation, as the raising of the status of women and the liberation of the slave. But, for the sake of argument, and to avoid complicated side issues, let them be granted; and even then we maintain that it can be proved that Christianity is not favourable to morality in the way and degree commonly supposed. And by morality is meant right conduct here on earth ; those outward acts and inward sentiments which, by the suppression of the selfish passions, conduce most to the public and private well-being of the race. Paley, with that clear, but at times somewhat cynical, common sense which marked his acute intellect, is willing to admit that “ the teaching of morality was not the primary design ” of the gospel. “ If I were to describe,” he goes on to say, “ in a very few words, the scope of Christianity as a revelation, I should say that it was to influence the conduct of human life, by establish­ ing the proof of a future state of reward and punishment—‘ to bring life and immortality to light.’ The direct object, therefore, of the design is to supply motives, and not rules ; sanctions, and not precepts. And these were what mankind stood most in need of. The members of civilised society can, in all ordinary cases, judge tolerably well how they ought to act; but without a future state, or, which is the same thing, without credited evidence of that state, �ON CHRISTIANITY AS A GUIDE TO CONDUCT ■43 they want a motive to their duty; they which conduces, to happiness, either in want, at least, strength of motive, suffi­ ourselves or others, here, is evidently a cient to bear up against the force of trivial matter compared to the conduct passion and the temptation of present which conduces to happiness hereafter. advantage. Their rules want authority. An eternal future must, in minds capable The most important service that can be of even remotely realising such an idea, rendered to human life, and that, con­ overwhelm and crush into insignificance sequently, which one might expect a minute, temporal present. Even a beforehand would be the great end and long temporal future suffices to do this. office of a revelation from God, is to The inconveniences, for instance, of a convey to the world authorised assurances sea-voyage which is going to land us in of the reality of a future existence. And an abiding home in the Colonies or although doing this, or by the ministry India are borne with comparative of the same person by whom this is equanimity or indifference, on the done, moral precepts or examples, or ground that they will soon be over, illustrations of moral precepts, may that it does not very much matter, as be occasionally given, and be highly the real object is not to live happily at valuable, yet still they do not form the sea, but to prepare for happiness and original purpose of the mission.”1 In prosperity in the distant land for which other words, the purpose of the mission we are bound. A colonist does not was to make men fit for a future state of prepare the outfit of a seaman, does not reward, and to supply sanctions which look upon the ship which carries him as would deter them from conduct which his permanent dwelling-place. He no would make them fit for a future state of doubt secures what comfort he can at punishment. Salvation in the next sea ; but, if he is a wise man, his medi­ world is the object of the scheme, not tations are directed to his future life on morality in this; and, although the two land beyond the ocean. It would be objects may occasionally coincide, it is very questionable prudence in him to only a casual coincidence. Such dif­ learn seamanship or navigation, to study ference of ends must lead to a difference charts, and make himself master of the of means. The road which is intended position of shoals and rocks. He would to lead to happiness in heaven must say that such matters concerned persons diverge from the road which is intended who intended to pass their working lives to lead to happiness limited to this on the sea, whereas he had wholly earth. And if anybody says that he different objects in view; the soil, the does not see the necessity of such climate, and the crops proper to the divergence, that happiness in heaven country he intended to inhabit were the may well be only a prolongation of things that concerned him. The parallel happiness on earth, he may be asked only fails in the inadequacy of . the to reflect on the inevitable dwarfing and analogy between the longest life in a subordination of this life, a transitory colony and eternal life in heaven. If space of a few years, to a prospect of life is only a short voyage, destined to eternal life in heaven. Clearly, if this terminate in paradise or hell, what life is only a short, probationary trial­ thoughtful person could care how he scene, preparatory to entrance upon passed it? If, moreover, he were told eternity; if, moreover, conduct here is on good authority, or such as he con­ supposed to influence or decide our sidered transcendently good, as. being status there, happiness in this life is not divine, that happiness during this life’s a thing to be considered by prudent and voyage was more than likely to risk thoughtful persons; and the conduct eternal happiness -hereafter, his in­ difference to happiness here would probably become enmity to it. He 1 Evidences of Christianity, Part II., cap 2. �44 THE SERVICE OF MAN would lend but a careless ear to those utterances of representative Christian doctors. who urged him to study the conditions It is admitted by all Christians that and follow the conduct, often painful and irksome, which conduced most to man is saved only through the merits earthly happiness. He would say, as and passion of Christ. But difficulties good Christians have always said: “That arise concerning the true doctrine of jus­ is not the one thing needful. What do tification. The Protestants, speaking I care for happiness in this vale of tears ? generally, hold that a man is justified by My thoughts are naturally engrossed faith alone. The Catholics hold that co­ with the means of securing eternal operation with grace is needed on the happiness in the world which is to part of man to ensure salvation. It will come.” And the reply would be dictated not be necessary to enter the labyrinth by prudence and common sense. How of subtle disputations which have sur­ it happens that, as a matter of fact, so rounded this question from the days of few persons, who yet believe, or say they the Reformation. To the impartial do, in the future state of reward and spectator itwouldappear that the Catholic punishment referred to by Paley, by the view is the more rational, and the Pro­ admission of all preachers, take this testant the more scriptural. But this serious view of their position and duties, domestic quarrel among theologians does is a matter of interesting inquiry, but not concern us at this moment, inasmuch one which does not concern us at this as all Christian doctors agree that true moment. repentance and turning to God, however If these arguments are sound, and I these may be brought about, are rewarded scarcely apprehend that they will be by salvation. Past sins, nay, a whole disputed, it follows that on a priori life of sin, if repented of before death, grounds we should be justified in con­ are a far less obstacle to entrance into cluding that morality would be waived paradise than the most exemplary and as an end, in comparison with salvation, virtuous life, if unaccompanied by true among the most devout Christians. faith in Christ. And this, surely, is to And this is what we find does happen. discountenance morality in the most It happens also in all Churches and sects, direct way, making it the “ filthy rags ” showing that it is not an accidental but of which the Calvinists have so much to an essential characteristic of the Christian say. That this is the genuine doctrine scheme. But this is a very inadequate of all Christians I proceed to show by a statement of the case as it really stands. few quotations. The Established Church It is not going too far to say that the may well come first with the eighteenth doctrine of all Christians in the final article of her creed. “ They also are to result is antinomian and positively im­ be had accursed that presume to say, moral. They do not only not support and That every man shall be saved by the strengthen morality as they claim to do ; Law or Sect which he professeth, so that they deliberately reject and scorn it. he be diligent to frame his life according They place on a level the most virtuous to that Law, and the light of Nature. and the most flagitious conduct, carried For holy Scripture doth set out unto us on throughout a long lifetime; and this only the Name of Jesus Christ, whereby certainly must be held to be putting as men must be saved.” great an affront on morality as it is pos­ True faith and repentance at the last sible to inflict. moment, even in articulo mortis, are suf­ As these assertions may be regarded as ficient to blot out a life of sin. “ There savouring of paradox, I proceed not to never was a doubt in the Church,” says give more or less plausible reasons for Dr. Pusey, “ that all who die in a state of accepting them as true, but to prove grace, although one minute before they them, and that by the most authoritative were not in a state of grace, are saved. �ON CHRISTIANITY AS A GUIDE TO CONDUCT ....... We know not what God may do in one agony of loving penitence for one who accepts His last grace in that almost sacrament of death.”1 Thus penitence is everything and morality nothing. Years of sin which may, which are sure to have caused widespread moral evils, to have been a source of corruption and leading astray to the weak and ignorant, are all obliterated by one moment of loving penitence ; that is, they are oblite­ rated as regards their effects on the sinner’s status in the next world. He is washed in the blood of the Lamb, and goes to glory. But the partners and companions of his sins, whom he pro­ bably seduced, the women he ruined, the youths his example depraved, they sur­ vive and will be punished, unless, indeed, they follow his example to the letter, and close a life of wickedness by an act of timely repentance ; and in that case, like him, they will be as well off as if they had led the most virtuous of lives. Can any one presume to say that such doc­ trine encourages morality ? What could discourage it more ? The article just quoted, and the words of Dr. Pusey, may be allowed to stand warrant for the English Church in this particular. Now let us turn to the Catholic Church. And we will take as her representative an illustrious Saint and Doctor, whose works have received the approbation of his superiors, St. Alphonso de’ Liguori. In the first chapter of a book called The Glories of Mary, it is written: “We read in the life of Sister Catherine, of St. Augustine, that in the place where she resided there was a woman of the name of Mary, who in her youth was a sinner, and in her old age continued so obstinate in wickedness that she was driven out of the city, and reduced to live in a secluded cave ; there she died, half consumed by disease, and without the sacraments, and was conse­ quently interred in a field like a beast. Sister Catherine, who always recom­ 1 What is of Faith as to Everlasting Punish­ ment, p. 115. 45 mended the souls of those who departed from this world, with great fervour, to God, on hearing the unfortunate end of this poor old woman, never thought of praying for her, and she looked upon her, as did every one else, as irrevocably lost. One day, four years afterwards, a suffering soul appeared to her, and exclaimed, ‘ How unfortunate is my lot, Sister Catherine ! Thou recommendest the souls of all those that die to God ; on my soul alone thou hast not com­ passion?’ ‘And who art thou?’ asked the servant of God. ‘ I am,’ she replied, ‘ that poor Mary who died in the cave.’ ‘And art thou saved?’ said Catherine. ‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘by the mercy of the Blessed Virgin Mary.’ ‘And how?’ ‘ When I saw myself at the point of death, loaded with sins, and abandoned by all, I had recourse to the Mother of God, saying, “Lady, thou art the refuge of abandoned creatures : behold me at this moment, abandoned by all; thou art my only hope; thou alone canst help me; have pity on me.” The Blessed Virgin obtained me the grace to make an act of contrition. I died, and am saved ; and, besides this, she, my Queen, obtained that my purgatory should be shortened, by enduring, in intensity, that which otherwise would have lasted for many years. I now only want a few masses to be entirely delivered; I beg thee to get them said, and on my part I promise always to pray for thee to God and to Mary.’ Sister Catherine immediately had the masses said; and after a few days that soul again appeared to her, shining like the sun, and said, ‘ I thank thee, Catherine : behold, I go to Paradise, to sing the mercies of my God, and to pray for thee.’ ”z Nothing can be more plain. A life from youth to old age continued in “obstinate wickedness” is cancelled by an act of contrition, and, after a short 1 The Glories of Mary, translated from the Italian of St. Alphonso de’ Liguori, founder of the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer. By a Father of the same congregation. Page 19. (London, 1852.) . �46 THE SERVICE OF MAN purgatorial purification, the sinner appears “ shining like the sun.” Could a life of blameless self-denial and virtue have led to a better result ? The book I quote is full of such stories. Here is another :— “ Belluacensis relates that in an English city, about the year 1430, there was a young nobleman, called Ernest, who, having distributed the whole of his patrimony to the poor, became a monk, and in the monastery to which he retired led so perfect a life'khat he was highly esteemed by his superiors, and this esteem was greatly increased by their knowledge of his tender devotion to the most Blessed Virgin. It happened that the city was attacked by the plague, and the inhabitants had recourse to the monastery, in order that the religious might help them by their prayers. The abbot commanded Ernest to go and pray before the altar of Mary, forbidding him to leave it until he should have received an answer from our Blessed Lady. The young man, after remaining three days in prayer, received an answer from Mary to the effect that certain prayers were to be said: this was done, and the plague ceased. After a time Ernest cooled in his devotion towards Mary: the devil attacked him with many temptations, and particularly with those against purity, and also to leave his monastery. From not having recommended himself to Mary, he unfortunately yielded to the temptation, and resolved to escape by climbing over a wall. Passing before an image of Mary which was in the corridor, the Mother of God addressed him, saying, ‘ My son, why dost thou leave me?’ Ernest, thunderstruck and repentant, sunk to the ground, and replied, ‘But, Lady, dost thou not see that I can no longer resist; why dost thou not assist me?’ ‘And why hast thou not invoked me?’ said our Blessed Lady. ‘ If thou hadst recommended thyself to me, thou wouldst not have fallen so low; but from henceforth do so and fear nothing.’ Ernest returned to his cell, his temptations recommenced, again he neglected to recommend himself to Mary, and at last fled from his monastery. He then gave himself up to a most wicked life, fell from one sin into another, and at length became an assassin; for, having hired an inn, during the night he used to murder the poor travellers who slept there. Among others, he one night killed the cousin of the governor of the place. For this crime he was tried and sentenced to death. It so happened that before he was made a prisoner, and while evidence was being collected, a young nobleman arrived at the inn. The wicked Ernest, as usual, determined to murder him, and entered the room at night for this purpose; but lo! instead of finding the young man, he beheld a crucifix on the bed, all covered with wounds. The image cast a look of compassion on him, and exclaimed, ‘ Ungrateful wretch! is it not enough that I have died once for thee? Wilt thou again take my life ? Be it so. Raise thy hand, strike!’ Filled with confusion, poor Ernest began to weep, and, sobbing, said, ‘ Behold me, Lord; since thou showest me such mercy, I will return to thee.’ Immediately he left the inn, to return to his monastery, there to do penance for his crimes; but on the road he was taken by the ministers of justice, was led before the judge, and acknowledged all the murders he had committed. He was sentenced to be hung, without having the time given him to go to confession. He recommended himself to Mary, and was thrown from the ladder; but the Blessed Virgin pre­ served his life, and she herself loosened the rope, and then addressed him, saying, ‘ Go, return to thy monastery, do penance, and when thou seest a paper in my hands, announcing the pardon of thy sins, pre­ pare for death.’ Ernest returned, related all to his abbot, and did great penance. After many years, he saw the paper in the hands of Mary, which announced his pardon; he immediately prepared for death, and in a most holy manner breathed forth his soul.”1 1 The Glories of Mary, p. 48. �ON CHRISTIANITY AS A GUIDE TO CONDUCT It is quite clear that an ardent zeal to save souls is compatible with great indifference as to bodies. One would like to know what became of the poor travellers whom the ruffian Ernest murdered in their sleep. Was time granted them to make an act of con­ trition ? But it is absurd to take such a narrative au serieux. What is serious is the unmistakeable character of the teach­ ing implied. And can anything be imagined more cynically immoral ? Here is a man represented as falling into the most abominable anti-social crime which it is possible to commit. The wretch deserved a hundred deaths for his dastardly midnight murders; conduct more injurious than his to society simply cannot be conceived. Yet he is not only saved from the gallows by the Mother of God herself, but his life is prolonged in order that he may have time to repent and to get his precious soul taken to heaven — a place which, by the way, if it contain many such characters as he, would offer very un­ pleasant company to moral men. And let no one reject with impatience the above specimens of Christian teach­ ing on the ground that they are not Christian at all, but abject popish superstitions and inventions. Our next witness to prove that in this matter all Christians agree in vilipending a moral life and conduct, and placing it below a life of crime, provided the latter be terminated by an act of repentance and turning to God in time to cheat the devil, shall be the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, who will not be suspected of any leaning to Romish error. This is what he says : “Regeneration is an instantaneous work, and justification an instantaneous gift. Man fell in a moment....... Shall the devil destroy us in a moment, and Jesus be unable to save us in a moment?”1 Again: “ My dear hearer, whoever thou mayest be, whatever thy past life may have been, if thou wilt trust Christ, thou 47 shalt be saved from all thy sin in a moment; the whole of thy past life shall be blotted out; there shall not remain in God’s book so much as a single charge against thy soul, for Christ, who died for thee, shall take thy guilt away, and leave thee without a blot before the face of God.” Again : “ Ah ! my friend, let me assure you....... that there is hope for the vilest through the precious blood of Jesus. No man can have gone too far for the long arm of Christ to reach him. Christ delights to save the biggest sinners....... O ye despairing sinners, there is no room for despair this side the gates of hell. If you have gone through the foulest kennels of iniquity, no stain can stand out against the power of the cleansing blood....... You great sinners shall have r.o back seats in heaven! There shall be no outer court for you. You great sinners shall have as much love as the best, as much joy as the brightest of saints. You shall be near to Christ; you shall sit with him upon his throne; you shall wear the crown; your fingers shall touch the golden harps; you shall rejoice with the joy which is unspeakable and full of glory....... Thirty years of sin shall be forgiven, and it shall not take thirty minutes to do it in. Fifty, sixty, seventy years of iniquity shall all disappear as the morning’s hoar - frost disappears before the sun.”1 Two things are to be remarked in connection with these quotations : First, that we have here a singular agreement on one particular point, among divines who usually are in complete antagonism. Dr. Pusey, St. Alfonso de’ Liguori, and Mr. Spurgeon may be regarded as repre­ sentatives of opinions as widely divergent as could well be found among men calling themselves Christians. Yet they agree in the opinion that no amount or duration of sin can be accounted as a bar to salvation, provided a suitable act of repentance or contrition has been 1 “ A Sermon to Open Negiectersand Nominal 1Jesus at Bethesda: a sermon delivered by I Followers of Religion;” March 24th, 1867. C. H. Spurgeon, April 7th, 1867. �48 THE SERVICE OF MAN performed on “ this side of the gates of hell.” They differ at once if you ask for details as to how the act of contrition or repentance is to be carried out. Mr. Spurgeon bids the sinner turn to Jesus. St. Alfonso tells him to have recourse to the Mother of God ; the mere words of which precept the great Baptist minister would probably regard as savouring of blasphemy. But the result is the same. A long life devoted to sin can be blotted out in a moment by a change in the sinner’s mind. Secondly, this result has exclusive reference to the next world. By the hypothesis in each case, the life in this world is supposed to be as good as over ; and it has been a life of iniquity, says Mr. Spurgeon; of obstinacy in wickedness, says St. Alfonso. But para­ dise is attained, nevertheless. Now, can this doctrine be regarded as one leading to morality in this world? Must it not, rather, have a directly opposite effect ? As many as believe it—and how many millionshave ?—are invited,nay entreated, to believe also that it makes absolutely no difference as to their future welfare whether they lead virtuous lives here below or the most profligate, provided they repent a moment before death. Preachers may insist as they will on the dangers of deferring repentance to the last, on the awful results which will follow if the sinner is suddenly cut off, without having had time to make his peace with God. One part of their teaching destroys the effect of the other part. They admit, they proclaim that repentance, however late, will take the sinner to heaven. Human nature being as it is, we cannot wonder that the result in this world is varied, and on the whole very unsatisfac­ tory. The minute minority of naturally pious and tender minds embrace the cross with passion and ardent love, not unmixed with holy fear; they realise fully that they stand in jeopardy every hour; they work out their salvation in fear and trembling, and not unfrequently are exposed to a strain too severe for their faculties, and they become, like Pascal, morbidly anxious about their future state, or, like Cowper, they pass the limits of sanity, and fall for a longer or shorter time into utter despair. But these are the small minority of times d'elite. The bulk of mankind are com­ monplace all round, in their virtues and vices equally ; and they languidly believe and languidly practise their belief; but so imperfectly and perfunctorily that it is the universal complaint and lamenta­ tion of preachers of all denominations that the world lieth in wickedness and is dead in its sins. Nothing could be more frank and candid than Mr. Spurgeon’s language to his congregation on this head : “ You sin, and yet you come to a place of worship, and tremble under the word ; you transgress, and you weep and transgress again....... You are as religious as the seats you sit upon, but no more; and you are as likely to get to heaven as those seats are, but not one whit more, for you are dead in sin, and death cannot enter heaven.”1 Bourdaloue, the greatest preacher in the classic age of French pulpit eloquence, said : “ Nous sommes Chretiens, et nous vivons en pai'ens ; nous avons une foi de speculation, et dans la pratique toute notre conduite n’est qu’infidelite. Nous croyons d’une fagon, et nous agissons de l’autre....... Avoir la foi, et vivre en infideles, voila ce qui fait le prodige....... Ah! Chretiens, faisons cesser ce prodige, accordons nous avec nous-memes ; accordons nos mceurs avec notre foi; autrement que n’avonsnous pas a craindre de cette foi profanee, de cette foi scandalisee, de cette foi deshonoree ?”2 Again, he says: “ N’entend on pas dire sans cesse que tout est renverse dans le .monde, que le dereglement y est general; qu’il n’y a ni age, ni sexe, ni etat, qui en soit exempt; qu’on ne trouve presque nulle part ni religion, ni crainte de Dieu, ni probite, ni droiture, ni bonne foi, ni justice, ni charite, ni honnetete, ni pudeur; que ce n’est partout, ou presque partout, que libertinage, que 1 “ A Sermon to Open Neglecters,’’etc. 2 “ Sermon sur la Religion Chretienne.” �ON CHRISTIANITY AS A GUIDE TO CONDUCT 49 dissolution, que mensonges, que tromperies, qu’envie de s’aggran dir et de dominer, qu’avarice, qu’usure, que concus­ sions, que medisances, qu’un monstrueux assemblage de toutes les iniquites.”1 “ The title of Christian,” says Wilber­ force, “ implies no more than a sort of formal general assent to Christianity in the gross, and a degree of morality in practice, little, if at all, superior to that for which we look in a good Deist, Mussulman, or Hindoo.”2 It seems difficult to reconcile these candid admissions by eminent authori­ ties with the current claim made for Christianity as a supremely moralising influence. But we can hardly be wrong in tracing the general failure of preachers to arouse their flocks to the fact, already dwelt on, that they undo with one hand what they do with the other; that, anxious above all things to save souls in the next world, and making that infinitely the most important object, they one and all present the doctrine of Justification, though varying much from one another in minor points, in a form which neces­ sarily depreciates the value of morality in this world. With one voice they tell men that all they do is evil and wicked, and that there is no health in them. They dwell with exaggerated language on the sinfulness of sin and the extent and vileness of human corruption. But, except in a few special cases of unusually sensitive natures, they do not awaken the prick of conscience; men feeling in a dumb, inarticulate way, that their tone is unreal and conventional, or even merely professional. Even when they do alarm the conscience they as promptly send it to sleep again by their doctrine that a moment’s repentance can put everything straight, and that one plunge in the blood of the Lamb will remove all the guilty stains from a sinner’s soul. Mr. Spurgeon, in the sermon from which I have already quoted some passages, avows th's very openly. “ It is the easiest thing,” he says, “ in the world to impress some of you by a sermon, but I fear me you never will go beyond transient impressions. Like the water when lashed, the wound soon heals. You know, and you know, and you know, and you feel, and feel, and feel again, and yet your sins, your selfrighteousness, your carelessness and wilful wickedness, cause you, after having said, ‘ I go, sir,’ to forget the promise and lie unto God.” But the eloquent preacher had apparently forgotten what he had himself said on the previous page, or at least he had not sufficiently weighed the natural effect of his words. “ Thirty years of sin shall be forgiven, and it shall not take thirty minutes to do it in.” It is no wonder if men and women, with hearts and minds made dull and heavy with toil and trouble, should remember more easily and pleasantly the consola­ tion conveyed in the last remark than the objurgation of the previous one; and should dwell more on the efficacy of repentance when once set about than on its immediate need and urgency. Con­ sequently, we find that it is the most scrupulous and tender consciences which have most difficulty in embracing the great Protestant dogma of justification by­ faith alone. “The essence of Luther’s gospel is this : that a person so affected, that is, with scruples of conscience, has only one great struggle to go through in order that he may attain the indefectible promise of eternal salvation, and that the struggle is not against those sins, but against his own conscience, which would fain impede his full assurance of immediate pardon.”1 The records of execution show, on the other hand, that malefactors of the deepest dye have often little or no difficulty in turning to Jesus when circumstances compel it. This is acknowledged by the Christian Observer2: “Thousands of deeply peni­ tent and humble-minded persons have lived many years, and perhaps died, in a state of deep depression, because they 1 Opuscules: Petit Nombrc des Plus. 2 Practical View, cap. iv. 1 Ward, Ideal of a Christian Church, second edition, p. I712 January, 1884, p. 16. E �5° TIIE SERVICE OF MAN could not attain to that confident assur­ of the Jewish nation which made them ance that their sins were, pardoned at last insupportable to the Roman which they were told was essential to world. Yet, was he punished or made salvation; while murderers have gone to do penance, to make amends to the to the gibbet, exulting in strains of society he had injured ? The human rapture, as though they were being law did indeed give him his deserts by carried to the stake as faithful martyrs hanging him as a thief and probably a murderer, and so far morality was of Jesus Christ.” But the most momentous authority avenged. A powerful deterrent was for holding a life of wickedness on earth applied, not unlikely to prevent others immaterial, and no impediment to the from doing otherwise. But Christ undid promptest ascent into heaven, provided all the effect of that salutary severity in an act of contrition has been performed a moment when he promised him imme­ in time, has yet to be cited. It is that diate salvation, and for what ? For of Christ himself as he hung upon the deferential speech to himself, which the cross. “And one of the malefactors hypothesis that Christ saw to the bottom which were hanged railed on him, saying, of his heart will not allow us to regard If thou be Christ, save thyself and us. as a piece of artful time-serving, suggested But the other answering rebuked him, as politic in his desperate circumstances; saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing but which, without that hypothesis, would thou art in the same condemnation ? undoubtedly be open to such a suspicion. And we indeed justly; for we receive Thus preachers have the very highest the due reward of our deeds: but this authority for asserting that turning to man hath done nothing amiss. And he God, even at the last moment, wijj save said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me a soul in the next world, the admitted when thou comest into thy kingdom. object of Christianity; and agnostics And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say have equally a right to declare that unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me ; Christianity thereby shows itself hostile to morality in this world. The penitent in paradise.”1 This is almost exactly parallel with thief’s life, we may assume, was a per­ the case cited by St. Alphonso of the nicious one as far as this world was woman “ who was a sinner.” Though concerned. What good could his repen­ it is not mentioned in the gospel, we tance do to any denizen of this earth ? may suppose and grant that the penitent If it be said that it might lead others to thief made a due act of contrition; that repent after a life of crime, the answer is Christ was able to see to the bottom of that in proportion as they resembled him his heart, and that he truly repented they also would be qualifying for heaven, him of his sins. Does that in the least and not for well-doing in this world. remove the slight which Christ passed Man may injure his fellows in their most upon morality by taking him to paradise vital interests ; he may rob, murder, “ go in spite of his past evil life ? What did through the foulest kennels of iniquity ”; his repentance do to cancel that ? The there shall not remain in God’s book a evil that he had done in the world was single charge against his soul, provided still left working behind him : his bad he looks to the bleeding Lamb. On the example; the insecurity to person and other hand, the best of good works are property involved in his robber’s career; of no account, are worse than “filthy the pain and suffering he had caused in rags,” and no doubt have the nature of any case; all his immorality, in short, sin “ unless they be consummated in was left to work on, and contributed, no real vital communion with Christ.” It doubt, its share to that frightful depravity would not be easy to conceive a doctrine more injurious to morality than this Christian scheme, on which the morality 1 Luke xxiii. 39-43. �ON CHRISTIANITY AS A GUIDE TO CONDUCT 5i of the world, as on the surest foundation, men may become the worst, and vice versa, as they may be touched by grace is supposed to rest. Indeed, this inherent opposition or not, it is obvious that morality is a between morality and the gospel has figment of the fancy, having no sub­ been held by large sections of Christians stantial existence or foundation in the as an article of faith. “ Luther,” says nature of things. The difference is not Moehler, “not only taught that Christ between good and bad men, whose had not come to impart to men a purer goodness and badness depend on their ethical code, but even maintained that moral endowment fins the training they he had come to abolish the moral law, to receive, but between the recipients of liberate true believers from its curse both grace and the non-recipients ; and thesefor the past and for the future, and in are interchangeable according to the that way to make them free. The good pleasure of God. We can never evangelical liberty which Luther pro­ tell, therefore, whether the greatest pounded announces that even the sinner now may not become the greatest decalogue shall not be brought into saint before his end; nor whether the account against the believer, nor its best of men may not suddenly become violation be allowed to disturb the prodigies of wickedness. This unknown conscience of the Christian, for he is factor of Grace vitiates all calculation. exalted above it and its contents.” No doctrine more inconsistent with the Moehler goes on to say that the re­ facts of human nature can well be con­ formers refer to Christ not as the ceived, and therefore no more misleading strengthener and sanctifier, but exclu­ guide of conduct could be adopted. sively as the forgiver of sins; “they Imagine such a theory applied to agri­ regarded the mediator only in his culture, and that there was no reason, capacity of pardoner.” The great apart from the grace of God, why the Catholic divine is at pains to show the most fertile soil should not become superior moral tone of his communion the most barren, or the reverse. If in this respect. But the extracts just such were the case, what inducement cited from St. Alphonso de’ Liguori i would a farmer have to choose good prove that the Catholic Church has no land and cultivate it with care ? The advantage over the Protestant on this worst land might serve him as well as. point. The Virgin takes the place of the best, and bring him overflowing, Christ as a free pardoner of the grossest crops; and that with no effort on his sins, in consideration of an act of con­ part, for “ God giveth the increase.” He has only to wait or pray for fertilising trition and genuine repentance. To the above considerations it may grace. Or apply it to the raising of be added that the doctrine of grace is horses or cattle. The grazier or breeder presented in a way to become a standing cannot trust to the qualities of his stock. rebuke and depredator of morality. His thoroughbreds may suddenly become “Humility,” says Canon Liddon, “is valueless animals, which no one would the condition and guarantee of grace; take at a gift; while his neighbour, who and, as St. Augustine says, there is no had nothing but screws and low-breeds, reason, apart from the grace of God, has all at once a magnificent collection of why the highest saints should not be the superb cattle. Men differ at least as worst of criminals.”1 In that statement much as animals in their inherited quali­ I suppose all theologians would concur. ties; and to say that a man naturally But it is easy to see how fatal such a courageous, high-minded, benevolent, doctrine is to a systematic culture of and just can become vile and cruel, morality. If, at any moment, the best cowardly or criminal, is not a whit less irrational than to say that a thorough­ bred Arab can become a cart-horse. The 1 Oxford Sermons ; VI. �52 THE SERVICE OF HAN faulty theory leads, as a matter of course, to disastrous practice. It is no exaggera­ tion to say that the vigilant, painstaking cultivation of the moral side of man’s nature has never been taken in hand with earnest persistence, because theology has always been celebrating the power of grace, to the depreciation of ethics. A miracle of grace, which removes the heart of stone and replaces it by a heart of flesh, might always be expected, or at least hoped for. Punctual performance of the moral law, social duty to the com­ munity and individuals, could well be postponed without harm, in view of the celestial transfiguration which converts a sinner from a bond-slave of Satan into a saint of God. If this conversion takes place in the last hour or minute of life, we have seen that, by the unanimous con­ sent of theologians of all schools, it is enough; the object has been attained; a soul has been saved ; the sinner’s past wickedness has been blotted out, as regards its effects upon him. But its effects on society are not considered, and the result must be, and is, solely injurious to morality as far as it relates to conduct in this world. That depends on the per­ formance of social duty; salvation depends on repentance and the subjective attitude of the soul towards God. And this re­ pentance is powerful to cancel any number of previous breaches of the moral law. In other words, morality is not the one thing needful, but repentance is. Chapter VI. MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH In the previous chapter we saw on the best evidence, that of eminent doctors in various denominations, that true Christian doctrine postponed morality to repen­ tance; and that salvation in the next world depended on other things than good conduct in this. The obvious inference was, that under such a scheme morality must necessarily be more or less slighted and undervalued, and that the alleged support afforded to ethics by the Christian religion must be either denied or considerably diminished. It will be perhaps useful to confirm this abstract deduction by examples taken from the past of the actual working of Christian doctrine. If only a tithe of the compliments which it is usual to pay that doctrine be true, it is clear that the more we retrograde into the ages where it held undisputed sway over men’s minds, the more moral we ought to find the public and private life of the world. Wickedness and crime are assumed to be the natural result of neglected religion. No other cause is usually thought of in explaining the atrocities of the French Revolution. Here we see, it is remarked, the proper effect of atheism and for­ saking of the divine light of the gospel. Again, the corruption and immorality of the lower Roman Empire show what becomes of man when left to himself. The line of argument is too familiar to need further repetition of it. Now, we may profitably consult history as to the truth of these assumptions. Do we find, as a matter of fact, that the Ages of Faith were distinguished by a high morality? Were they superior in this respect to the present age, which is nearly on all hands acknowledged not to be an age of Faith ? The answer must be in the negative. Taking them broadly, the Ages of Faith were emphatically ages of crime, of gross and scandalous �MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH wickedness, of cruelty, and, in a word, of immorality. And it is noteworthy that in proportion as we recede backward from the present age, and return into the Ages of Faith, we find that the crime and the sin become denser and blacker. The temperature of faith rises steadily as we penetrate into the past, almost with the regularity which marks the rise of the physical temperature of the air as we descend into a deep mine ; but a neglect and defiance of morality are found to ascend in a corresponding ratio. This, it must be owned, is an anomalous result, if morality be indeed so dependent on Christianity as is commonly supposed. When all men believed and doubted not, we should have found, according to the Christian hypothesis, a godly world; devout people living always with the great Day of Judgment before their eyes, crushing down the lusts of the flesh, in view of the tremendous penalties pre­ pared for those who indulged them. But we find nothing of the kind. On the contrary, we find a state of things to which our imaginations are scarcely able to do justice in these comparatively tame and moral days. A progressive improve­ ment has taken place in men’s conduct, both public and private; but it has coincided not with an increase, but with a decay, of faith. This, beyond any question, is the most moral age which the world has seen ; and it is as certainly the least believing age since Christianity became the religion of the West. The inference is plain, that Christianity has not been so favourable to morality as is usually assumed. Let us turn back, and take a brief ex­ cursion through the ages behind us. The present century need not detain us long. Most persons would admit that the state of morals when George the Fourth was king left much to be desired. The scandals of the Court were bad enough ; but no Court, however bad, can compromise a nation. The mass of the population was coarse, insolent, and cruel, and permitted things which would not be tolerated for a moment now. That there 53 were exceptions, not only of individuals, but of whole though small classes, no one would deny. The Clapham Sect was a conspicuous example in a corrupt world ; and many of the dissenters were truly pious, God-fearing people, who had turned away from the prevailing grossness. But these were only fractions of the nation. The general tone was low, violent, and brutal. The drinking, gambling, prize­ fighting, cock-fighting, bull-baiting Eng­ land of the Regency is hardly to be realised in these decorous days ; though old men “ still creep among us,” who can partly resuscitate it for us, if carefully questioned. Let one of those venerable seniors be induced to describe the con­ dition of London in his youth, and no hearer will have any doubt as to the' extraordinary change for the better which has taken place in the last two genera­ tions. From this century we pass into history; and as the object is to ascertain the moral tone of previous ages, let us quote the following passages from a writer, who was selected by common acclamation as “ the great moralist,” and was one of the most brave, noble, and conscientious men who have ever lived, Samuel John­ son :—“ He talked of the heinousness of the crime of adultery, by which the peace of families was destroyed. He said : ‘ Con­ fusion of progeny constitutes the essence of the crime; and, therefore, a woman who breaks her marriage vows is much more criminal than a man who does it. A man, to be sure, is criminal in the sight of God; but he does not do his wife a very material injury, if he does not insult her; if, for instance, from mere wanton­ ness of appetite, he steals privately to her chambermaid. Sir, a wife ought not greatly to resent this. I would not receive home a daughter who had run away from her husband on that account.’ ”r This was Johnson’s settled opinion, as, eleven years after, we find Boswell recording another conversation, in which the same 1 Croker's Boswell, chap. xxi. �54 THE SERVICE OF MAN thought recurs : “ I mentioned to him a cannibals in India, who subsist by dispute between a friend of mine and plundering and devouring all the nations his lady, concerning conjugal infidelity, about them. The president is styled which my friend had maintained was by Emperor of the Mohocks, and his arms no means so bad in the husband as in are a Turkish crescent. Agreeable to the wife. Johnson : Your friend was their name, the avowed design of their in the right, Sir. Between a man and i institution is mischief, and upon this his Maker it is a different question ; but i foundation all their rules and orders are between a man and his wife, a husband’s I founded. An outrageous ambition of infidelity is nothing. They are connected doing all possible hurt to their fellow­ by children, by fortune, by serious con­ creatures is the great cement of their siderations of community. Wise married assembly, and the only qualification women don’t trouble themselves about required in the members. In order to infidelity in their husbands.”1 exert this principle in its full strength Now, this is a very good instance of and perfection, they take care to drink the improvement which has taken place themselves to a pitch that is beyond the in the course of the last hundred years. possibility of attending to any motive of That very offence for which Johnson said reason and humanity, then make a he would not receive his daughter home, general sally, and attack all that are so if it were committed by a husband, is unfortunate as to walk the streets now so universally admitted to be an through which they patrol. Some are injury of the most serious kind that the knocked down, others stabbed, others statutory law of the land does precisely cut and carbonadoed........ The particular what Johnson said he would not do—give talents by which these misanthropes are protection to the injured wife. distinguished from one another consist As we go further back in the century, in various kinds of barbarities which we make a visible approach to the state they execute upon their prisoners. of nature. Cowardly murders and brutal Some are celebrated for a happy outrages are perpetrated almost with dexterity in tipping the lion upon them, impunity and very little loss of credit which is performed by squeezing the by people of the highest rank. The nose flat on the face, and boring out the exploits of the Mohocks must have eyes with their fingers. Others are rendered the streets of London, in the called the dancing-masters, and teach reign of Queen Anne, considerably more their scholars to cut capers by running ■dangerous and disgusting than any swords through their legs........ A third Californian diggings frequented by the are the tumblers, wrhose office is to set rabble and outlaws of Europe and women on their heads, and commit America in the early days of the gold certain indecencies, or rather barbarities, discoveries. A contemporary says : on the limbs which they expose.”1 Slitting “There are a certain set of persons, noses, cutting people down the back, and among whom there are some of too putting women in tubs which were rolled great a character to be named in these down Snow Hill, were among their diver­ barbarous and ridiculous encounters, did sions. they not expose themselves by such The manners and customs of persons mean and ridiculous exploits ”; and their of quality were those of semi-savages. portrait is thus drawn by the Spectator: Thackeray, who knew the period well, “A set of men who have erected them­ does not go too far when he says : “You selves into a nocturnal fraternity, under could no more suffer in a British drawing­ the title of The Mohock Club, a name room, under the reign of Queen Victoria, borrowed, it seems, from a sort of a fine gentleman or a fine lady of Queen 1 Ibid., chap. Ixix. 1 Spectator, No. 324.. �MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH Anne’s time, or hear what they heard and said, than you would receive an ancient Briton.” This is the manner in which “gentlemen” quarrelled in the good old times : Sir Cholmley Dering, knight of the shire for Kent, and Mr. Thornhill fought a duel, in which the former was killed. This caused a judicial inquiry, and “ the first Evidences were such as related to the quarrel begun at the Toy at Hampton Court, April 27th, 1711, who deposed that an assembly of about eighteen gentlemen met there at that time, a difference happened between the deceased and the prisoner. Upon their struggling and contending with each other, the wainscot of the room broke in, and Mr. Thornhill, falling down, had some teeth struck out by Sir Cholmley Dering’s stamping upon him.”1 Naturally a duel followed. “ They fought,” says Swift, “at sword and pistol this morning in Tuttlefields, their pistols so near that the muzzles touched. Thornhill discharged first, and Dering, having received the shot, discharged his pistol as he was falling, so it went into the air.” Thornhill was convicted for manslaughter, but he was apparently soon abroad again, as he was murdered by two men, who stabbed him on horse­ back, five months afterwards, at Turnham Green. The well-known case of the murder of Will Mountford, the actor, by Lord Mohun and Captain Hill, in a ruffianly ambuscade, would seem well suited to show the profligate temper and degraded public opinion in the reign of William the Third. The incident is thus related by Thackeray:— “ My lord’s friend, a Captain Hill, smitten with the charms of the beautiful Mrs. Bracegirdle, and anxious to marry her at all hazards, determined to carry her off, and for this purpose hired a hackney coach with six horses and halfa-dozen soldiers to aid him in the storm. The coach, with a pair of horses (the 1 Ashton, Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne, chap, xxxviii. 55 four leaders being in waiting elsewhere), took its station opposite my Lord Craven’s house in Drury Lane, by which door Mrs. Bracegirdle was to pass on her way from the theatre. As she passed, in company of her mamma and a friend, Mr. Page, the captain seized her by the hand, the soldiers hustled Mr. Page and attacked him sword in hand, and Captain Hill and his noble friend endeavoured to force Madam Bracegirdle into the coach. Mr. Page called for help; the population of Drury Lane rose; it was impossible to effect the capture, and, bidding the soldiers go about their business, and the coach to drive off, Hill let go his prey sulkily, and he waited for other opportunities of revenge. The man of whom he was most jealous was Will Mountford, the comedian. Will removed, he thought Mrs. Bracegirdle might be his; and accordingly the captain and his lordship lay that night in wait for Will, and, as he was coming out of a house in Norfolk Street, while Mohun engaged him in talk, Hill, in the words of the Attorney-General,- made a pass and run him clean through the body.”1 Mohun was tried for the murder by his peers of the Upper House, and acquitted by sixty-nine votes against fourteen. “ One great nobleman,” says Macaulay, “ was so brutal and stupid as to say : ‘After all, the fellow was but a player, and players are rogues.’ ”2 This, on the first blush, seems downright atrocious. But there are slightly extenu­ ating circumstances connected with the case which make it a degree less horrible. In the first place, the murder and the judgment, as Macaulay points out, were generally condemned by public opinion. In the second place, the Lords were actuated by a violent esprit de corps, and defending their privileges which were being attacked by the Commons. That which largely neutralises these con­ siderations is the fact that Mohun was a 1 Lectures on the Humourists. 2 Macaulay’s History of England. �56 THE SERVICE OF MAN popular character in London, and that the anecdotists speak very kindly of his practical jokes. In the next reign he was singled out for honourable dis­ tinction, and accompanied “ Lord Macclesfield’s embassy to the Elector of Hanover when Queen Anne sent the Garter to H.E. Highness.” Were the men of that generation infidels, despisers of God’s Holy Word, and demoralised by a ■ dreary disbelief in the unseen world ? On the contrary, they were fanatically religious. Their zeal about spiritual matters was fervid in the extreme. A hint that the Church was in danger filled them with gloomy passion. As soon as Sacheverell’s trial began “ it took up all men’s thoughts, so that other business was at a stand. It was clear from the very outset of the trial that the popular favour was wholly on the doctor’s side. He lodged in the Temple, and came every day in solemn procession through the Strand to West­ minster Hall. A> he passed, great crowds gathered round his coach, striving to kiss his hand and shouting ‘Sacheverell and the Church for ever!’ Those who would not join in the shouts were often insulted or knocked down. The ardour of the multitude was even less justifiably shown by their attacks on some meeting­ houses,in which thepewsweredemolished and burned.”1 The connection between Christianity and morality does not seem very plain here. If we now cross the Channel and examine the condition of morals under the Old Monarchy of France, we shall find that the record of Catholicism in this respect is in no wise purer than that of the rival communion. It is a common opinion that the very great licence of manners which distinguished the French upper classes in the latter part of the eighteenth century was one of the many evil results of the prevalent infidelity propagated by Rousseau, Diderot, and Voltaire. But such an idea has no 1 Lord Stanhope, Reign of Queen Anne, chap. xii. foundation. Corrupt as was the society which read the novels of Louvetand the younger Crebillon, it was in a variety of ways superior to the society to which Bossuet and Bourdaloue preached, and which flocked to hear the sacred dramas of the spotless Racine. The whole of the reign of Louis XIV. was marked by a great depravity of manners, and his depravity was found quite compatible with an ostentatious and possibly sincere attachment to religion. The king, in spite of the gross immorality of his private life, was a bigot in matters of faith, and he was not an ungraceful or inadequate representative of the people who looked up to him as to an almost supernatural being. No stress need be laid on the laxity of the gay lords and ladies who filled his brilliant Court, although, if a firm belief in Christianity were the safeguard of pure morals, as it is supposed to be, their lives present an unaccountable anomaly; for, as Bour­ daloue said to their faces, they lived like pagans though they believed like Christians. The point of interest for us is to note how largely Christianity failed to overcome the flesh and the devil, even in an age when it had entirely its own way, was zealously supported by the State, and able to wield its tremendous sanctions without pause or hesitation. And, again, what we have to take most account of is the average tone and temper of public opinion with regard to crime and immorality. Sporadic and exceptional crime may occur in any age, and yet cast no reflection on the average standard of morals. It is otherwise when immorality is common, if not general, and when a life of great licence and scandal may be passed without attracting discredit or remark. And this rule applies especially to the conduct of ministers of religion. If the clerical order can indulge in abandoned courses without exciting reprobation, we may be sure that we do an age no injustice in pronouncing its standard of morality . to be low. When the officers of an army give an example of cowardice and �MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH insubordination, we know what to expect of the rank and file. We have many instances during the reign of Louis XIV. which show the great corruption of the clergy in that age, and the little resentment or surprise which it caused. The lives of some of the' most prominent ecclesiastics were openly scandalous. The famous Cardinal de Retz led a life of which any decent layman would now be ashamed. But it may be said that de Retz was one of those political Churchmen who took orders merely with ambitious views to worldly advancement, and who ought not to be considered as true clerics. He also lived in times of revolution, when men’s morality is apt to break down. So we will pass him over. These remarks do not apply to Harley de Champvallon, Archbishop of Paris. He lived in times of profound internal peace, he never played any part in politics, and he was for years the acknowledged leader and representative of the French Church. He was permanent chairman of the Assembly of the French Clergy, and a preacher of such popularity and power that, during a course of his Lenten sermons, the church was kept open at all hours, and footmen, in order to retain the best places, were forced to spend the whole night in them. Yet he was a man of profligate private life, and not so very private, as his amours were notorious. “ Notre Archeveque de Paris, Quoiqu’il soit jeune, a des faiblesses ; Voyant qu’il en avait trop pris, Il a retranche ses mattresses ; Les quatre qu’il eut autrefois Sont a present reduites a trois. ” Several great ladies of the Court—la Marquise de Gonville, la Marechale d’Aumont, Madame de Brisseu—were among his conquests, but Madame de Bretonvilliers was his maitresse en titre, as la Montespan was of Louis XIV. He was not even content with these irregularities, but carried off by force Mademoiselle de la Varenne, a public singer, the mistress of a gentleman 57 named Pierrepont. The latter avenged himself in a way characteristic of the age; he lay in wait with three men, seized the faithless Varenne (who seems to have made no objection to the exchange of a poor for a rich lover) as she was returning to the house the arch­ bishop had given her, and had her unmercifully beaten with rods. It was probably his only mode of retaliation. Meddling with Monseigneur and his pleasures was attended with danger and punished severely. Two priests who had lampooned him were sent to the galleys, one for life. One of the arch­ bishop’s mistresses was the Countess of Northumberland, a former favourite of Charles II. The prelate used to visit her in a convent of Benedictines at Conflans. He died suddenly, at a good old age, in the presence of his last “amie,” la Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, and had his funeral oration pronounced by le pere Gaillard. It appears there was some little trouble in finding a preacher—a fact creditable to the time, as far as it goes. The convents, not without reason, had a bad reputation. Louis XIV., who was not a man to speak evil of religious orders, said of the Carmelites : “Je savais bien qu’elles etaient des friponnes, des intrigeuses, des ravaudeuses, des bro­ deuses, des bouquetieres, mais je ne croyais pas qu’elles fussent des empoisonneuses.”1 “ There were often, says Michelet, “twelve parlours in a convent, in which each nun, without being heard, could converse with her lover or a female intriguer yet more dangerous.”2 But Protestants and infidels are only too ready to believe evil of convents as if they all must necessarily be nests of iniquity—a most unjust supposition. Port Royal at this very time contained women of angelic purity. We may therefore leave them, and pass to the lower ranks of the secular clergy. A good example of the tone of public 1 Madame deSevigne, Lettres, Oct. 15th, 1677. 2 Histoire de France: Louis XIV., note iii. �58 THE SERVICE OF MAN opinion with regard to clerical irregu­ larity will be found in the following story :— “On the 7th of November, 1665, the cure of Saint-Babel was condemned to death for a crime he had committed three years before. He was a man of parts, intelligent in matters of business, but carried away by his passions, and not particular in setting a good example in his parish. He was especially ill-famed for his amours—and amusing stories were told about him, amusing if the tone had not been connected with sin and wholly unbecoming his sacred profession. He was accused in the world of having instructed his female parishioners in an entirely novel manner, and having inspired them with a love remote from the love of God. His turn for gallantry would show itself at such unseasonable moments that on one occasion, having been sent for by a good woman in mortal sickness to hear her confession, he neglected to administer to her the Sacraments, in order to amuse himself in winning the affections of a girl to his liking, whom he found in the house; and thought no more of the salvation of the mistress in his design against the honour of the maid. He forgot his character as a priest as soon as he had seen her personal charms, and love overcame duty. Instead of listening to the confession of the one, he employed his time in making his declaration to the other; and far from exhorting the sick person to die piously, he solicited her who was in good health to live in sin; and, taking her by the hand and the chin, he said : ‘ What a trial it is for me to be called by a person whom age and sickness have reduced to extremity, and what a joy it would be to come and see you who have youth and beauty. I own that I do not like to hear the story of past sins which these good old women relate to us, and that the sins of youth are much more agreeable. Let madame your mistress think over the way in which she has passed her years, and let us consider how we will pass ours ; let her examine and see if she has sinned, and let me know if you can love one who loves you. Do not be surprised if you see me abandon my duties in order to satisfy my inclination, and, if you love me, regard me as a man and not as a cure, and reflect that you can be at once my mistress and my parishioner, and that you will find in me a pastor and a lover equally devoted.’ ” This worthy priest was not interfered with for this and similar indiscretions. He came to an untimely end by being hanged for the more serious offence of murder, into which he was tempted by a natural exasperation at having been placed in a ridiculous and painful posi­ tion by one of his flock. It happened thus. At a short distance from his parish he had a grange in which he kept, not only his corn and fruit, but, when occasion required it, the young­ women whom he fancied. Hetook reason­ able precautions to ensure privacy, and even diverted a road which ran past the grange, in order to escape the curiosity of passers by who might feel a wish to inquire what he was doing in his retreat. Still suspicion was excited, and a peasant, more enterprising and mischievous than the rest, artfully closed the door of the grange and fastened it on the outside, when he had good reason to think that the cure was within, as, indeed, he was, with a young woman, whom he had chosen out of his own church. . The imprisoned pair were forced to wait till liberated by a chance wayfarer, and the exposure of the cure was complete. He vowed a terrible vengeance on his betrayer, and soon carried it out by having him beaten to death. The very next day he said mass for the defunct, but the friends of the latter brought the cure before a local tribunal, which acquitted him. It was only three years later, when a special commission of judges, known as Les Grands-jours d’Auvergne, were sent by Louis XIV. to suppress the unbridled crime in. Auvergne, that M. Guillaume Boyer, the cure in question, came by his deserts. �MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH The Church did all it could to save him. But Colbert was at the head of affairs, and lay-justice had its way. Now, to whom are we indebted for this interesting story? To no other than the illustrious Flechier, the elo­ quent preacher who became Bishop of Nimes. His Memoires sur les Grandsjours <TAuvergne are among the choicest pieces of French prose of the early classical period, not without a flavour of “bel esprit” and “ preciosite,” recalling the Hotel de Rambouillet, but still, by their finesse and style, worthy of the Great Age. But all must admit that the tone of sly humour in which the crimes of the priest are recorded is very singular, and conclusive that clerical irregularities were considered objects rather of mirth and pleasantry than of serious reproba­ tion. Would any clergyman, especially of so high a character as Flechier, dream of speaking of them in such a strain now ? We will next take the case of the famous Abbe de Choisy, as illustrating the kind of life a Churchman might lead under Louis XIV., not only without discredit, but with general respect and esteem. The Abbe de Choisy came of a good family “ of the robe ”—that is to say, he belonged to that rich and powerful class of hereditary civil servants who carried on the government of the old French monarchy. His position in the world is sufficiently shown by the fact that his mother, a woman distin­ guished by her wit and fine manners, could say to the young Louis XIV. that, if he wished to become a polished man, he ought to frequent her society. One may suppose she did not neglect the education of her son, and we know, indeed, that she loved him to excess. This was the result of her bringing up. After leaving the theological seminary—for he was intended for the Church from the first—Choisy immediately became an actor, or rather an actress, and for several months appeared on the stage at Bordeaux. His mother, in his child­ hood, had taken pleasure in dressing 59 him as a girl, partly, perhaps, from private whim, but more probably to please the perverted tastes of Monsieur (Duke of Orleans), the king’s brother, who had a passion for wearing female attire. Choisy was nothing loath, and soon surpassed his Royal Highness in his fondness for a woman’s costume. In order to gratify his propensity, he bought a house, as he himself tells us, in the Faubourg Saint-Marceau, in the centre of the “ bourgoisie of the people,” that he might “ dress himself as he liked, among folks who would not complain of anything he did.” He soon became noted for his elegant female attire, and, though his sex was well known, no one seems to have been scandalised. So far from that, his services were requested in the parish church to present the hoi)’ bread and collect the offertory. He became one of the attractions of the church, and a source of great profit to his employers. In one day he collected two hundred and seventytwo livres. People came from other parishes when it was known he was going to collect. “I will admit,” he says, “ that in the evening at the salut (the benediction) I experienced a great pleasure. It was night, when the talk is free. I heard several times, in different parts of the church, people saying, ‘ But can it be true that that is a man ? He has good reasons for wishing to pass for a woman.’ ” It may well be supposed that this comedy was continued beyond the walls of the church, for objects less innocent than making strangers stare. Choisy took a large country house near Bourges, where he passed as la Comtesse des Barres, and spent four years in a round of systematic seduction. Details cannot be given ; they are to be found in his own narrative by the curious in such moral monstrosities. Even more singu­ lar than his turpitudes is the chuckling cynicism with which he relates them. Yet he never lost caste for his rascality. Once only, apparently, was he reproved, by the Due de Montausier, who told him �6o THE SERVICE OF MAN he ought to be ashamed of himself for such conduct; but his clerical brethren seem to have been as accommodating as he could wish. When he went to Bourges he imparted his secret to the cure, which, as he says, it was only fair to do. But the cure was not in the least scandalised, and came to dine and sup at the rake’s house, sitting at table with the innocent little victims, mere children often, of the latter’s licentiousness. But that is not all. When the Cardinal de Bouillon went to Rome to attend the Conclave for elect­ ing a new Pope, he took Choisy with him as his “ conclaviste.” He afterwards occupied the same post in the service of the Cardinal de Retz (a worthy pair), and took a part, if we may believe him, in the election of Odescalchi (Leo XL). He lived till eighty, and was doyen of the French Academy, when he died in great honour as a man of wit and fine manners. It is needless to add that he was “ con­ verted ” before the end, with what profit to the world does not appear. Scotland and Spain share the bad pre­ eminence of having been, each in their way, the most fanatical nations in Europe. It would be difficult to say in which of the two religion was made most repulsive and inhuman. In both countries nearly every object was postponed to the pro­ tection and propagation of the national faith. But Calvinism in Scotland was more blighting and deadly to all things beautiful than Catholicism in Spain. Terrible as it must have been to know that the invisible eye of the Holy Office was fixed upon your movements, and even upon your thoughts, and that at any moment you might disappear behind its dreaded walls, only to emerge in a San Benito in the ghastly procession to an Auto da Fe, yet Spanish life was not blackened and gnawed into hideousness by the Spanish Inquisition as Scottish life was by the Scottish Inquisition. After all, there were joy, laughter, and song in Spain; there were poetry and painting; Cervantes, Calderon, and Murillo, bright children of the South, in whom the world still finds delight. But in Scotland every green and wholesome thing was smitten as by a black frost. “To be poor, dirty, and hungry, to pass through life in misery, and to leave it with fear, to be plagued with boils and sores and diseases of every kind, to be always sighing and groaning, to have the face streaming with tears and the chest heaving with sobs; in a word, to suffer constant affliction and to be tormented in all possible ways—to undergo these things was deemed a proof of goodness, just as the contrary was a proof of evil. ....... It was a sin to go from one town to another on Sunday, however pressing the business might be....... No one on Sunday should pay attention to his health, or think of his body at all. On that day horse-exercise was sinful; so was walking in the fields, or in the meadows, or in the streets, or enjoying the fine weather by sitting at the door of your own house. To go to sleep on Sunday before the duties of the day were over was also sinful, and deserved church censure. Bathing, being pleasant as well as whole­ some, was a particularly grievous offence ; and no man could be allowed to swim on Sunday. It was, in fact, doubtful whether swimming was lawful for a Chris­ tian at any time, even on week days, and it was certain that God had, on one occasion, shown his disapproval by taking away the life of a boy while he was in­ dulging in that carnal practice.”1 Life must have been made intolerable by a system of spies and informers who were paid for delating breaches of the Sab­ bath.2 “ Sometimes a brother and sister, or a man and his wife, walking quietly together, would find themselves under the observation of the emissaries of the Kirk. In short, if fanatical belief in Christianity, coupled with the most intemperate zeal in enforcing the pre­ cepts of the Bible, could have made a people moral, the Scotch should have 1 Buckle, History of Civilisation in England, vol. ii., pp. 395-398. Buckle corroborates every statement by redundant evidence. 2 Chambers’s Domestic Annals of Scotland, vol. iii., p. 344. �MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH been a moral people towards the middle and end of the seventeenth century. Nearly a century of gospel-teaching at the highest pressure should, if Chris­ tianity be as favourable to morality as is commonly supposed, have produced very marked results in the form of correct and orderly living. The reality does not correspond with this pleasing inference. Indeed, to judge from the accounts left us by Spalding and other contemporaries, the country districts of Scotland presented a savage scene of lawless violence, frequently ending in murder. Gentlemen, neigh­ bours, and often relatives, quarrel and fight and kill each other like barbarians, with or without provocation. However, homicide, which of all crimes in a peaceful state of society is the most injurious and detested, is often viewed with strange leniency in periods agitated by fervent religious and social or political revolution. In the eyes of ferocious partisans, killing is no murder when it thins the ranks of their enemies. This was the case in Scotland at the time referred to; it was so in France, both under the Red and White Terror; and only recently it was the same in Ireland. We will, therefore, pass over the Scotch man-slaying of the seventeenth century, and refer to that milder form of vice which has nearly usurped' the name of “ immorality ” for its own exclusive use in familiar speech—illicit intercourse between the sexes. On no part of ethics have Christians of all denominations laid greater stress that on chastity, yet with far less result in the way of producing purity of manners than might have been expected, even among those who made a particular display of religion. In 1640 a portion of the Covenanting army was under General Monro, on its way from Banff to Aberdeen. “Then Monro and his soldiers,” says Spalding, marched that night (Friday) to Turriff; Saturday, they marched therefrae to Inverurie and Kintore; Sunday, they marched therefrae to Aberdeen, and by the way, at Bucksburn, they had a 61 sermon taught by their own minister.” They no doubt “hungered and thirsted by the way,” and could not pass the Sabbath, though on military duty, without hearing the Word. But when they reached their quarters in Aberdeen, their behaviour left much to be desired. “Of the performances of the Covenanting troops occasionally posted in Aberdeen, we hear from the commissary clerk of‘daily deboching ’ and ‘drinking,’ night walking, combating and swearing, and bringing sundry honest women-servants to great misery. Sixty-five of this honest sister­ hood were delated before the church courts; twelve of them, after being paraded through the streets by the hang­ man, were banished by the burgh. Several were imprisoned in a loathsome vault, while others, more fortunate, found safety in flight.”1 What was done to the pious profligates who had brought them to this “ great misery ” does not appear. Later on in the century the General Assembly felt called upon to proclaim a general fast on account of the backslidings of the people. “ There hath been a great neglect,” they say, “of the worship of God in public, but especially in families and in secret. The wonted care of sanctifying the Lord’s Day is gone, cities full of vio­ lence, so that blood touched blood. Yea, Sodom’s sins have abounded among us—pride, fulness of blood, idleness, vanities of apparel, and shameful sen­ suality.”2 And there is no reason to believe that this is one of the rhetorical exaggerations of sinfulness common to religious persons in moods of depres­ sion. Referring to a slightly earlier date, Mr. Chambers says: “The number of cases of uncommon turpitude in a time of extraordinary religious purism forces itself upon our attention....... Offences of a horrible and unnatural kind continued to abound to a degree which makes the daylight profligacy of the subsequent 1 Burton, History of Scotland, vol. vi., p. 322. 2 Chambers’s Domestic Annals of Scotland, vol. ii., p. 42. �62 THE SERVICE OF MAM reign (Charles II.’s) shine white in com­ parison. ‘ More,’ says Nicoll, ‘ within these six or seven years, nor within these fifty ye irs preceding and more.’ Culprits of all ages, from boys to old men, are heard of every few months as burned upon the Castle Hill of Edinburgh. Sometimes two together—young women who had murdered their own infants— were frequently brought to the same scene of punishment. John Nicoll states that on one day, October 15th, 1656, five persons—two men and three women—were burnt on Castle Hill for offences of the several kinds here glanced at, while two others were scourged through the city for minor degrees of the same offences.”1 The meaner vices of fraud and cheat­ ing, often supposed to be modern inven­ tions from which the pious old times were free, were not uncommon in Edin­ burgh in the seventeenth century. “ The beer, ale, and wine sold in the city were all greatly adulterated. It was customary to mix wine with milk, brimstone, and other ingredients. Ale was made strong and heady with hemp seed, coriander seed, Turkish pepper, soot, salt, and by casting strong wash under the cauldron when the ale was brewing. Blown mutton and corrupted veal, fusty bread and light loaves, false measures and weights, were common. In all these particulars the magistrates were negli­ gent, so that the people were abused and neglected.”2 One does not see how, under the head of morals, the people of the Ages of Faith were superior to the people of to-day. When we consider that the com­ petition was much less severe than it is now; that the size of the towns was many degrees smaller than at present; and that the opportunities of escaping observation and punishment now afforded by our immense cities were then correspondingly less, we must 1 Ibid., vol. ii., p. 242. 2 Chambers’s Domestic Annals of Scotland, vol. ii., p. 240. admit that the average of morality was singularly low, although the average of religious belief and zeal was singularly high. The few extracts quoted above give a most inadequate impression of the general violence, grossness, cruelty, and licence of the period during which every effort was made and almost every other worthy object was sacrificed with a view to making the people devoutly Christian. We have surely a right to say, after so large and protracted an experiment, that the moralising element in Christianity has been over-estimated. Here was Christianity at work without any competing principle; it was zeal­ ously supported by the secular power; yet we find crimes of “ uncommon turpi­ tude ” co-existing with “ extraordinary religious purism.” It is not an answer to say that but for Christianity, matters, bad as they were, would have been worse; and for this good reason, that a great improvement in decency, order, and civilisation generally, co­ incided in Scotland with a marked decline in religious fervour, such as set in about the middle of the last century. What is true and quite fair to allege is, that the Scottish people in the seven­ teenth century were in that stage of semi - barbarism in which no moral principle is able to take a firm hold. Only the slow growth of knowledge and industry can civilise such a people. But this is the doctrine of evolution, not of grace. The latter, as emanating from Almighty power, can no more be arrested or withstood by imperfect development in the race than by moral degradation in the individual. At least, that is the theory. In practice, we may observe, the growth of morality depends on con­ ditions widely remote from those which favour the vigour and tenacity of theo­ logical beliefs. As already shown, Chris­ tianity preaches salvation in the next world, not morality in this ; and accord­ ing to the rules laid down we may not doubt that numbers of the Scotch, in the darkest period, after the commission of every crime against human ethics, �MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH were at last touched by grace and were saved, or at least should have been. The point does not admit of verification, and we therefore cannot tell whether celestial happiness did supervene as a compensa­ tion for the miseries of a barbarous exist­ ence on earth. The fact remains that those miseries were not mitigated, but were often very much increased, by a fanatical belief in the words of Scripture. The cruelty and injustice perpetrated in obedience to the disgusting superstition about witchcraft, a thoroughly scriptural tenet, fill up one of the most horrible pages in the history of mankind. Sor­ cerers were burnt in batches of four, five, and even of nine at a time on the Castle Hill. But the more zealous spirits were not satisfied. “There is much witchery up and down our land,” says Robert Baillie; “ the English be but sparing to try it, but some they execute.”1 Our sympathy is justly given, in the first instance, to the wretched victims; but the mental anxiety and terror of their persecutors must have been no light burden. We will now, for a few moments, turn our attention to Spain, the single Euro­ pean country which rivalled Scotland in its zeal for religion. One of the liveliest accounts of that interesting nation will be found in the letters of a French lady, who went to Spain in 1679 to attend upon the young queen Henriette, the daughter of the un­ fortunate Henrietta of England, sister of Charles II. I confine my extracts to the matter in hand—the union, or rather the disconnection, of morality and reli­ gion :—“The frequent assassinations in this country, on account of some affront or other, seem to authenticate these facts. If a man receives a box on the ear or a stroke in the face with a hat, nay, with a handkerchief or a glove; if he be called a drunkard; or a reflecting word happens to pass on his wife’s virtue, these 1 Chambers’s Domestic Annals of Scotland, vol. ii., p. 244. 63 must be wiped off with no less than the blood of the aggressor, and that by assassination. For they say it is not just that, after a signal affront received, the offended party should put his life in an equal balance with the offender. They are so tenacious of revenge that they will not lay aside an injury for twenty years after ; if they happen to die before they accomplish it, they will recommend the same upon their death-beds to be exe­ cuted by their children. I had it from credible hands that a certain person of note, dreading the revenge of his enemy, went to the West Indies, where he stayed twenty years, till, hearing that both he and his son were dead, he returned to Spain, yet not without changing his name for his greater security ; but in vain, for, notwithstanding all his precaution, the grandson of his enemy, though not above twelve years of age, found means to hire a ruffian, who assassinated him soon after his return. “ Most of their assassins are natives of the city of Valentia, a wicked generation, who will venture at anything for money, and are always provided with firearms that will discharge without noise, and stilettoes....... I was told that a certain Spaniard of note, having agreed with one of these Bandoleroes, as they call them, of Valentia, for a certain sum of money to dispatch his enemy, but a reconcilia­ tion being made soon after betwixt them, he acquainted the Bandolero with it, desiring him not to put his design into execution, though at the same time he allowed him the money as a voluntary gift. But the assassin replied that he scorned to have any of his money with­ out deserving it, to do which he must either kill him or his enemy. The gentle­ man, being willing to preserve his own life, was forced to let him put in execu­ tion what he had designed against the other, unless he would have resolved to seize him—-a thing of dangerous conse­ quence in Spain, where these ruffians are so numerous and so closely united that they are sure to revenge the quarrel of any of their companions, which makes �64 7'HE SERVICE OF MAN Spain the most doleful theatre of tragical scenes in the universe. “ What is more surprising than all the rest is, that as well those who leave no stone unturned to put their revenge in practice, as those who put them in execution, should engage themselves in certain devotions for the success of their enterprises, at the very time they are going to give the mortal wound to an innocent person of their own religion and country.”1* Now, as regards the Spanish observa- • tion of the seventh commandment: “ The Spaniards are so kind-hearted to one another in love affairs that, if a man meets his mistress in a place where he has no opportunity of conversing with her in private, he need only go into the next house and to request the master (whether he know him or not) to give him the opportunity of talking with a lady of his acquaintance in private in his house, and he is sure it will scarce ever be refused.” What is meant by the euphemistic term “talking ” is made clear ■by the following strange disclosure : “I remember that, talking the other day with the Marchioness d’Alcannizas, one of the greatest and most virtuous ladies I of the Court, she frankly told us that, if a gentleman should be alone with her for half an hour in a convenient place, and not ask her the last favour, she should think he despised her, though she should, at the same time, not grant his request.” Again, we have to notice the co-exist­ ence of a very low moral tone with the most exalted religious zeal and passionate religious belief. It is unnecessary to proceed through the previous centuries with so much detail, otherwise it would be easy to show that the sixteenth century was far more immoral, in the widest sense of the word, than the seventeenth. The Court of the later Valois is painted for us by the gar­ rulous Brantome; and one fails to see 1 The Ingenious Letters of the Lady’s -------Travels into Spain, Harris’s Collection, ii., p. 756> ed. 1705. how it differed, except for the worse, from the Court of Caligula or Commodus. The Italians were more refined, but even more wicked, and impressed the English of Elizabeth’s reign, by no means a squeamish or fastidious folk, with a “ sense of the rottenness of the country whence they obtained their intellectual nourishment, with a sense of frightful anomaly, of putrescence in beauty and splendour, of death in life, and life in death.”1 No one would expect better things of the fifteenth century, in which the Wars of the Roses in England, and the final struggle against English domi­ nation in France, had the usual effect of protracted warfare in injuring morality. That the fourteenth century, the era of the great Schism, of the captivity of the Popes at Avignon, and of the Black Death, should have been a period of extraordinary licence and crime cannot surprise us. Both civil and ecclesiastical government were impaired by the events of the time, and pestilence is usually followed by moral irregularities. So we pass these ages over, and stop for a moment in the thirteenth century, the age par excellence of beautiful things, when chivalry is supposed to have been in its noble prime, when the Church exerted a calm and serene sovereignty over the kneeling nations, when mediaeval art reached its supreme and chaste perfection, when the philosophy and theology of the Latin Church cul­ minated in works almost as intricate and wonderful as the maze of pinnacles, flying buttresses, arches, and columns which, surviving still in the cathedrals of Amiens or Chartres, sing us a deceptive siren song of beauty which lures us to their epoch as to a Golden Age. It was very far from a golden age. On the contrary, it was an age of violence, fraud, and impurity, such as can hardly be con­ ceived now. We will take it in its ideal moment—in the reign of St. Louis, the best of kings, and perhaps the best man 1 Euphorion, by Vernon Lee. �65 MORALm' TN THE AGES OF FAITH who ever lived. We will take as-' a witness one of his most trusted and1 valued friends, Eude Rigaud, Arch­ bishop of Rouen, and we will see what he says of the morals of the clergy of his own diocese, which, like a good pastor as he was, he was constantly visiting for the purpose of discipline and reform. The Regestrum Visitationum^ or the diary of the pastoral visits of Archbishop Rigaud, forms a quarto volume of up­ wards of six hundred closely-printed pages. It extends from the year 1248 101269. Rigaud had been a Franciscan monk, a student at Paris of scholastic philosophy under our famous countryman, Alexander of Hales, and at an early period acquired reputation as a preacher of uncommon eloquence. . A tradition obtained that he had been elevated to the archiepiscopal see of Rouen, where he had gone to preach, on account of the impression produced by his piety and learning on the Chapter. Rigaud wished to refuse the proffered dignity, but his professions were disregarded; the Pope, Innocent IV., relieved him of his vows to reject ecclesiastical honours, and he was consecrated archbishop in the month of March, 1248. In the month of July, in the same year, he began his pastoral visitations. He travelled about from monastery to monastery, and sometimes was entertained at the expense of the monks, but more often at his own. Indeed, the religious houses seem fre­ quently to have been in debt, and hardly in a position to give worthy hospitality to so great a lord as an archbishop. He often discovered, both among the secular and the regular clergy, very unclerical habits and amusements, sometimes inno­ cent, at other times very much the con­ trary. He found the nuns of St. Arnaud had fallen into the evil practice of singing the Psalms and Hours to the Virgin with unbecoming haste—“ cum nimia festinatione et precipitatione verborum,” and ordered, very properly, that one verse should not be begun till a previous one had been finished. The nuns, moreover, did not observe the rule of silence; and ate meat in the infirmary as often as three times a week. A sick sister would have two or three healthy friends to see her, and regale them with a more dainty repast than the usual convent fare. They all had a measure of wine, but some drank more than others, which was not allowed. Some even gave wine to persons outside the convent, with­ out obtaining leave; for this offence they were made to go without wine the next day. The nuns also had a fondness for linen chemises and sheets, which were against the rule, and these luxuries were forbidden. On the whole, the convents for women, which Rigaud visited, seem to have been fairly correct, and certainly did not afford examples of the gross licentiousness of the monks and priests. Many of the latter fell under episcopal censure for irregularities which would not nowadays be considered very serious, and give a notion of a rollicking, schoolboyish tone, which has an odd effect. Riding about on horse­ back in an unclerical garb is noted with disapprobation, and seems to have been a common fault. Buying and selling horses was hardly so venial in a priest; no more, perhaps, was the keeping of dogs for hunting purposes. But it was easy to do much worse. One is surprised to find charges of drunkenness constantly recurring. Frequenting taverns and play­ ing at dice were certainly unbecoming in a clergyman, especially when carried so far as to cause the priest to leave or lose his clothes in the public-house, “ aliquando amittit vestes suas in tabernis.” One is glad to see that Archbishop Rigaud would not. stand such indecorum, and deprived the incum­ bent who had been guilty of it of his living. But these transgressions are insignificant, both in number and gravity, compared with the incessant sin of incontinency, which is alleged on nearly every page in the most aggravated form.. Priest after priest is charged with immoral conduct, some with married women, some with keeping two mistresses at F �66 THE SERVICE OF MAN once, one with incest with his own niece.1 Without a certain monotony of repeti­ tion, it is impossible to convey the impression produced by this protracted catalogue of clerical disorders. “We found the priest of Nesle in ill-repute, on account of a certain woman who is said to be pregnant by him; he also trades, and ill-treats his father, who is the patron of the church he holds. This parson fought with a certain knight with a drawn sword amid a clamour and con­ course of his friends and relations.”2 “ The priest of Gonnetot was charged with criminality with two women, and he went to the Pope about the matter, and when he returned he is said to have offended again. The priest of Wanestanvilla was accused with reference to a woman, one of his own parishioners, and her husband on that account departed over sea. He kept her eight years, and she is pregnant; he also plays at dice and drinks too much; he frequents the taverns, does not abide in his church, and goes with a hawk on his fist when­ ever he likes. Also the priest of Braysur-Seine is accused with reference to a certain woman; and because she refused to live in the presbytery, he went to live with her, and had his food and corn brought to her house. Also the priest of Saint-Just haunts taverns, and drinks till he is full up to the throat. Also Lawrence, priest of Longceil, keeps the wife of a man who is abroad; she is called Beatrice Valeran, and he has a son by her. 3 We found that the 1 “ Item presbyter de Mesnilio David est inobediens et habet pueros suos secum, et concubinam alibi: item duce se invenerunt in domo ipsius et se verberaverunt invicem. Item pres­ byter de Sancto Richario infamatus de quadam conjugata, parochiana sua. Item presbyter Sancti Remigii notatus de ebriositate, non defert capam, ludit ad talos, frequentat tabernam, et ibi multociens verberatur. Item Magister Walterus presbyter de Grandi Curia, infamatus est de propria nepte et de nimia potatione.”—Regest. Visitationum Arch. Rothomagensis, par Th. Bonnin, Rouen, 1852, pp. 20, 21. 2 Ibid., p. 19. 3 Ibid., p. 29. priest of Panlyu was famed for incontinency with a maidservant of his, and likewise with two other women, who afterwards bore him two sons; also he is noted for inebriety; he sells his wine, and makes his parishioners drunk. The priest of Auberville is seriously noted for incontinency,and he married a certain woman with one of his servants, in order that he might have free access to her. Also he had relations with a certain Englishwoman, whom he kept a long time, and sinned with her again after being corrected by the archdeacon; also with the daughter of a poor woman who lives hard by the cross.”1 Although the nuns, compared with the priests, appear to have been well-behaved, we occasionally meet with convents in which there were great disorders. “ We visited the convent of the Blessed Mary of Almeneschiis. There are thirty-three nuns. All are possessed of property: they have saucepans, copper-kettles, and necklaces. They contract debts in the village, and eat and sit at tables in groups. Each nun has money given her to provide for her table and her kitchen. Many are absent from Compline and Matins, and drink after Compline. Sister Theophana is given to drink. They have no regular time for confession or com­ munication. Sister Hola lately had a boy by one Michael of Vai Guido. Secular persons freely enter the cloister and talk with the nuns. They never dine in the refectory. Dionisia Dehatim is accused of ill-conduct with Nicholas de Bleve. They quarrel finely in the cloister and the choir. Alice, the cantatrix, had a boy by a man named Christian. Also the prioress formerly had one boy. They have not got an abbess, as the last recently died.”2 A most improper set of ladies, certainly, considering their vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. The strange thing is that Archbishop Rigaud did not visit them, so far as appears, with any censure; perhaps their wealth 1 Regest. Visitationum Arch. Rothomagensis, 2 Ibid., p 82. p. 25. �MORALITY IN THE AGES OF FAITH 67 and social position made it impolitic to no doubt because a refractory or litigious do so. Indeed, the grosser sins of the priest, especially by appealing to Rome, flesh are treated with what we should could give rise both to trouble and consider singular mildness. Early lapses scandal.1 The next witness I would like to call from virtue, and even later ones, are pardoned on promise of reform. Only was a cardinal, an intimate friend and in the case of hardened and persevering co-reformer of the great Hildebrand, sinners are strong measures taken. “We Pope Gregory VII., the Blessed Peter warned them,” says Rigaud—and in one Damiani. Unfortunately, the very nature case “them” included Master Walter, of the crimes with which he charges the the priest of Grandcure, who cohabited clergy is so monstrous that it is impos­ with his niece—“ we warned and threat­ sible, even “ in the obscurity of a learned ened them that if we found them again language,” as Gibbon said, to give an accused of similar misdeeds we would idea of their character. Dean Milman punish them severely.”1 And it would can only distantly refer to Peter Damiani’s not be right to suspect the archbishop “ odious book,” the Liber Gomorof a weak toleration of vice for acting so rheanus; and quotes the title of the leniently. The number of offenders was first chapter as an adequate indica­ so great that, if he had suspended or tion of its contents. Any modern must expelled them all, he would have had follow his example. It must suffice few or no priests left to serve the diocese. He probably did the best which the cir­ 1 “ Uni versis presentes litteras inspecturis, cumstances permitted; which was, on Radulphus rector ecclesiae de Sana Villa Rotho­ proof of repeated guilt, to obtain from magensis diocesis, salutem. Noverit universitas quod cum super the culprit a written promise of reform, vestra ut dicebatur, pro irregularitate commissa a me, eo quod, suspenses et together with an undertaking to leave excommunicatus, dicebar celebravisse divina: his church and the country in case of a item super crimine fornicationis et adulterii relapse into his former depravity. Rigaud quod dicebar commisisse cum Robina penildore has preserved for us a great number of de Nova-villa: item super eo quod dicebar lusor ad taxillos, et frequentator tabernarum : item these documents, signed, sealed, and super eo quod dicebar capellanum capellae de sworn to, by the penitents, and they are Rocherobiis vulnerasse graviter cum falcone in capite ; essem apud bonos et graves, et maxime extremely curious. In the first place, they show beyond doubt or cavil that apud reverendum patrem Odonem, Dei gratia, Rothomagensem archiepiscopum adeo diffamatus, the charges were true. Habemus confi- quod dictus pater, nolens dissimulare premissa, tentes reos. In the next place, the poor nolebat super premissis ad inquisitionem contra me procedere, et secundum inquisitionis exigenpriests seem heartily ashamed and sorry, and own without ambiguity, in often tiam me canonicae subicere ultioni. Tandem ego, queerens a dicto patre non judicium sed crude language, the faults they have veniam, promisi, sine vi, sine dolo dicto patri committed; though probably the draw­ spontaneus, quod praedictam ecclesiam meam ing up of these confessions was not resignabo, et habebo pro resignata, quandocunque entrusted to them, but confided to the dicto patri placuerit; volens et concedens quod idem pater possit me privare eadem . ecclesia sterner pens of the archbishop’s secre­ sine strepitu judicii et juris solemnitate in aliquo taries ; they acknowledge that if they non observata, quandocunque suae sederit volunfall again they will have nothing to say tati. Renunciavi autem spontaneus quoad pre­ exceptioni de vi et de metu et litteris a for themselves; that they will give up missaapostolica contra premissa concedendis seu sede their curacies without the noise or fuss etiam impetrandis, et omni auxilio juris canonici of a trial—sine strepitu judicii—and go vel civilis competenti seu competituro per quod away. This appears to have been a dictae resignatio et privatio impedin valeant great point, to get rid of them quietly; vel differi. Juravi praeterea spontaneus, tactis sacrosanctis evangeliis, me contra premissa vel 1 Regest. Visitationum Arch. Rothomagensis, p. 21. aliquod premissorum per me nec per aliurn non venturum” [^Regcst. Visitcitwivuni Arch. Rotho magensis, p. 658). �68 THE SERVICE OF MAN to say that nothing in Aristophanes, Athenaeus, or Petronius, gives a picture of more bestial depravity than the one drawn by a prince of the Church of the manners of his clerical contemporaries. It is “ unspeakable,” and with that remark we must leave the subject. But what about grace, what about belief in God, Christ, and the Bible ? What about the deterrent effect of the fear of hell, of the purifying effect of the hope of heaven? These are questions to which an answer were desirable. And now, what is the moral to be drawn from this unpleasant but necessary review? We have seen that not in one country nor in one age, but all through the Ages of Faith, the most flagrant breaches of the moral law are quite compatible with the most fervent and complete belief in God, in the Bible, and, in short, in Christianity. The usual answer to this objection is that these people may have had faith, but it was not living and saving faith. They believed like the devils, and perhaps did not always tremble like them as well. So let it be. Mere faith, unless it be of a partitular kind, is not enough. The heart must be touched by grace, as well as the mind disposed to assent to certain dogmatic propositions. But agnostics say no more and no less. The touching of the heart is everything, and assent to propositions next to nothing. It is abundantly plain that assent to Christian dogmas offers the slenderest guarantee that it will have the desired effect in touching the heart. There never was a moment, from the first teaching of Christianity till the present day, when sincere pastors have not deplored the condition of the greater part of their flocks. That the whole world lieth in wickedness is the constant burden of their complaint. Could better proof be required or given that the supposed connection between belief and morality is illusory ? And it is easy to see that this is not an accidental but a necessary result. By laying all the emphasis of its teaching on repen­ tance and the subjective attitude of the soul towards God, and not on good works performed to individuals and society, Christianity has not applied its force in the right direction for produc­ ing the maximum of morality. As this was not its aim, it cannot be censured for not having attained it. But it is open to us to point out that this misdirection of force largely accounts for the low morality of the past, and is one of the chief causes of the decline of theology in the present. It is proved by an experience of eighteen hundred years, that the tremendous sanctions which Christianity wields are inoperative on the majority of minds. They do not realise them; the threats are not heard, as it were, by the inward spirit. The immediate connection between wrong-doing and going to hell is not grasped. Hell is a long way off, is not visible, and its deterrent efficacy is weakest when the attraction of sinful pleasure is strongest. Only minds of a fine, imaginative power, and naturally tender consciences, seize the whole im­ port of the Christian message. This fact alone would put Christianity at a disadvantage in dealing with the bulk of mankind. Few persons care for remote dangers or evils ; they banish them from their minds, as suggesting gloomy thoughts, and trust to the chapter of accidents to escape them entirely. When preachers enlarge every Sunday on the peril of the unrepenting sinner’s condition, and tell him that he may at any moment be summoned before the dread tribunal of an angry God, the young and the strong and the giddy accord to them but a languid assent. They feel in robust health, sudden death by accident or disease is the great exception, and pleasure is very delightful, and within reach. It is a maxim of jurisprudence that prompt punishment for wrong-doing is vastly more efficacious than even severer penalties long delayed. Suppose ordinary crime were punished, not with the greatest dispatch compatible with justice, but at a remote period in after life, say, twenty or thirty years after �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE 69 its commission, would not the deterrent lever to keep men in the right way. But effect of the criminal law be even less they were tied down by the terms of the than it is ? But this is by no means all. divine deed and testament, and forced In addition to this disadvantage, Chris­ to use very different language. The tian priests have one and all placed a lamentable doctrine of Original Sin, and greater one in their own way as teachers all that flowed from it, the washing away of morality, by their doctrine of repen­ of sins, flight from the wrath to come, tance and consequent salvation. When, forced them to show that, after all, like St. Alphonso de’ Liguori or Mr. heaven was open, if certain conditions Spurgeon, they teach that any amount were complied with—heartfelt repent­ of crime and sin can be expunged in a ance, turning to Jesus, confession of sins, moment by sincere contrition and turn­ receiving the sacrament; and that, in ing to God, even in the last hour, they that case, previous crime or virtue made remove from the cause of morality in no difference ; all men justly lay under this world all the force and urgency of the sentence of God’s wrath, and if He their exhortations, and transfer them to chose to pardon, it was only out of the celestial happiness beyond the grave. unspeakable riches of His grace. It If they had been able to preach that was not for man to make terms. So good works, and good works only, would that, by exaggerating human depravity take men to heaven, they would have and making all men worthy of hell, they occupied a relatively strong position. If came to admit very bad characters into they could have said to men, “It matters heaven. And quite rightly, from one point not how sorry you are for having done of view. Salvation was their object, not amiss, you must smart for it all the morality. They have not aimed at it, same,” they would have had a powerful and they have not attained it Chapter VII. WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE attempting to estimate the past, we are exposed to two opposite temptations, either of which may lead us into serious error. We may be so impressed by the recent advance of knowledge and the enlarged power of man over nature, the pomp and brilliancy of modern material progress, that we turn with disdain from the humbler science and perform­ ance of our ancestors, and, comparing their poverty with our own riches, com­ placently draw flattering conclusions to our own advantage. This disposition is a common mark of energetic but unedu­ cated minds, of people who have made their way in the world by force of In character, and who nourish a sort of grudge against learning and scholarship. On the other hand, it is a tone so repul­ sive to minds which have made them­ selves acquainted with the past that these are apt to fall into the opposite extreme, and to see with over-clearness the seamy side of the present. The wealth and noisy progress of the present do not impress persons of this type with much respect. They pronounce them to be vulgar and commonplace, and purchased at far too great a cost; nay, by the ruin of numerous lovely and precious things, which the present age does not miss, only because it is too �70 THE SERVICE OF MAR deeply buried in sordid cares and frivo­ lous pleasures to know anything about them. If one class points to the triumph of industry and the victories of steam, the other draws attention to the meanness of our Art, and the foul defacement of natural beauty, and even the polution of the air we breathe and the water we drink by factories, tall chimneys, and the ubiquitous screaming tyrant, the railroad. The admirers of the present look out upon the world, which it is their intention to subdue, as conquerors. They are always for “ opening up ” new countries, which they say conduces to trade and the spread of civilisation. The lovers of the past reply that the march of the so-called civilisation should rather be called the spread of ruin, vice, and disease ; that the traders look upon the world rather as buccaneers than as honest men, that they regard it as their oyster which they mean to open with a steam hammer. The interchange of taunts and reproaches goes on in amotbic response, as of peasants in an idyll, and no doubt will not readily be brought to a close. It is referred to here in order to exhibit the difficulty of a task which, at one time or another, we are nearly all of us compelled to undertake, to estimate and fairly judge the past, if for no other purpose than lighting up and enabling us to direct the present. A clear perception of the road we have travelled is one of the best indica­ tions of our probable course in the future, whether that course be a straight line or a curve. It is obvious, if society be an organism—and few nowadays would deny the fact—that, in order to understand it, we must study its life, behaviour, and habits, on the most extended scale. The present is a transi­ tory phase, which is as insufficient for this purpose as a day or an hour would be for the biological study of one of the higher animals. Both those who wish to break with the past and ignore its teaching as so much dross—the revolu­ tionists ; and those who on various grounds can think of nothing better than an impossible return to it—the reaction­ aries ; will find, and indeed have found already, though the extremes of neither party are very docile to the lessons of experience, that knowledge alone can throw light on our path, and that to take sentiment or passion as our guide is to court catastrophe. Revolutionists, who are too impatient and headstrong to wait for the slow but sure effects of evolution, and reactionaries, who are too selfish or stupid to admit the changes which evolution demands, are equal enemies to progress and human well­ being. Incessant and minute change is one of the conditions of life, but great and sudden change is disease, and no change at all is incipient death. One of the numerous misfortunes which afflict mankind is the difficulty of in­ culcating this truth; it appears to be profoundly offensive to the vulgar of all classes, the majority of the race. A salutary change, let us suppose, is obviously required ; it is announced and advised by a reflective individual or group here and there. If they are not too obscure and insignificant to fail wholly in attracting notice, a clamour arises against their monstrous and un­ heard-of opinions; for critical turningpoints occur in the speculative as well as the practical order; modes of thought and doctrines at times need reforming as much as institutions; they cannot be listened to, they are subversive, atheistic, destructive of man’s best interests, and so forth. The change does not take place, or oftener it is not overtly admitted as needed or salutary; it is kept down and arrested, as far as possible even ignored. But it is going on under­ ground, as it were; its partisans increase, and their anger also, till at last comes a time when the dammed-up current has accumulated an energy which overpowers all obstacles, and it dashes furiously forward, scattering devastation along its course. This is the abstract history of all revolutions in Church or State, in thought or practice. These considerations, even if they be �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE deemed over-trite and obvious, are not out of place as introductory to the subject of. this chapter—an attempt to estimate the action of Christianity in the past. In the last chapter it was viewed in relation to its effect on morals; and facts were adduced which seemed to show that in that respect its operation had been far less salutary and decided than it is customary to assume. At the same time it was shown that morality was never the special objective of Chris­ tianity, and therefore any failure to foster morality could not justly be made a repwach against it. No system can be Dlamed for not accomplishing what it never attempted to do. Luther would have read the previous chapter without discomposure. He would have said: “ No doubt the object of Christianity is to save men’s souls in the next world, not to make them moral in this. And it does save. That is all I want.” On this ground his position is unassailable. Modern apologists have usually forsaken his inaccessible heights, and put in claims, which seem to be more than dis­ putable, for their religion as a guardian of morality. But this is only one side of a large sub­ ject. A doctrine so wide and powerful as the Christian has many other sides, and its energy as a social factor is not to be limited to one point of view. Chris­ tianity has had an immense influence on politics, literature, and philosophy; it has moulded the minds and characters of many of the most distinguished persons who have adorned the human race. But neither its blind friends nor its blind foes can be expected to do it justice, and possibly full justice will never be done to it till it has ceased to exist. Still, an estimate of its value as a social doctrine must ever appear as one of the most important problems presented by history, an at­ tempted solution of which is almost imposed on serious students who are sufficiently withdrawn from theological prepossessions to regard Christianity neither with love nor hatred, but with 7* that sympathy and respect justly due to one of the greatest phases of human evolution. In the learned and profound investi­ gations of continental scholars concern­ ing the origin of Christianity and the growth of the early Church, sufficient attention has not always been accorded to the precise time and place in the order of human evolution in which that religion arose. This is not intended as a reproach to such illustrious men as Strauss, F. C. Baur, Keim, Hausrath, and Renan. They had more immediate work of a specialist kind to do, and might well leave the placing of Chris­ tianity in world-history to others. But the point is of great importance. It may with reason be doubted, if the fact is as often remembered as it should be, that Christianity arose amid the corrup­ tion and decay of the greatest civilisation which the human race had seen, amid the death-throes of the ancient world. From the fact that the New Testament was written before that corruption and decay had assumed their final and fatal form, that St. Paul lived and preached in Antioch the Beautiful; visited Athens while its citizens still retained enough of the old inquiring spirit to “ spend their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear something new ”; and at last came to martyrdom in Rome while the deceptive bloom of imperial splendour still flushed the cheek of the dying mis­ tress of the world—it is often assumed that this proud heathenism and pagan glory were overthrown by the meek and unlearned disciples of the Galilean prophet of God. Nothing can be less true than this assumption. The soft autumnal calm, and purple tints as of an Indian summer, which lingered, up to the Antonines, over that wide expanse of empire, from the Persian Gulf to the Pillars of Hercules, and from the Nile to the Clyde, broken as it was by the year of Revolution of a.d. 69 and the black tyranny of Domitian’s reign, was only a misleading transition to that bitter winter which filled the half of the second and �TIIE SERVICE OF MAN the whole of the third century, to be soon followed by the abiding dark and cold of the Middle Ages. The Empire was moribund when Christianity arose. Indeed, Rome had practically slain the ancient world before the Empire replaced the effete Republic. The barbarous Roman soldier who killed Archimedes absorbed in a problem is but an instance and a type of what Rome had done always and everywhere by Greek art, civilisation, and science. The Empire lived upon and consumed the capital of preceding ages, which it did not replace. Population, production, knowledge, all declined and slowly died. The Christian apologists, headed by St. Augustine, were justly indignant at the pagan slander which attributed the fall of the Empire to the spread of Christianity. Their answer to the objection was complete, as we can see far better even than they did themselves. But what they could not be expected to see, and what we can see very well, is, that the fall of the Empire, including the loss and ruin of the old philosophy and knowledge, was an indispensable condition of the spread of Christianity. If the blood of the martyrs was truly said to be the seed of the Church, the decay of knowledge was an equally needed pre-requisite. It will not be denied that this decay of knowledge was present and startlingly rapid. After the silver age which ended nobly with Tacitus and the younger Pliny, Latin pagan literature almost ceases to exist; and the falling off in the form is not more striking than in the value and quality of the contents. All superstitions revived and flourished apace in the ever-waning light of know­ ledge. A shudder of religious awe ran through the Roman world, and grew more sombre and searching with the progressive gloom and calamities of the time. A spirit wholly different from the light-hearted scepticism of the Augustan age and later Republic stirred men’s hearts, and the strongest minds did not escape it. “ The pagans were not one TV.hit bphind the Christians as regards | belief in miracles and in a future life.”1 The sun of ancient science, which had risen in such splendour from Thales to Hipparchus, was now sinking rapidly to the horizon; and when it at last dis­ appeared, say in the fifth century, the long night of the Middle Ages began. But it was in this period of decaying knowledge and civilisation that the Chris­ tian religion was elaborated and consti­ tuted in the historical form which it practically still wears. The creeds and chief dogmas of the Church were worked out in the period which extends from the Council of Jerusalem to the Councils of Nice, Chalcedon, Alexandria, and Ephesus. No evolutionist would think of speaking in any but respectful terms of the great Churchmen who laid down the lines along which European thought was destined to travel for a thousand years. The sneering tone of sceptics in the last age is wholly out of place, and arose from pure ignorance of the laws which govern social and intellectual development. The Nicene Creed in the fourth century after Christ was as natural and legitimate a product of the conditions of the time as was the Socratic philosophy in the fourth century before Christ. What we have to note is, that the Nicene Creed was the product of an age of decay, of disaster, and ap­ proaching death, so far as civilisation and science were concerned. In every light, one of the most memorable, and in many respects one of the most noble, of human compositions, it yet, as it could not fail to do, bears the marks of its birth-time; and that time was one of extreme calamity, of growing gloom, ignorance, and misery. Within two centuries of its promulgation, the Graeco­ Roman world had descended into the great hollow which is roughly called the Middle Ages, extending from the fifth to the fifteenth century, a hollow in which many great, beautiful, and heroic things were done and created, but in 1 Hausrath, Neute$tani?ntliche Zeit^eschichte^ vol. iii. 489. �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE which knowledge, as we understand it, and as Aristotle understood it, had no place. The revival of learning and the ; Renaissance are memorable as the first sturdy breasting by humanity of the hither slope of the great hollow which lies between us and the ancient world. The modern man, reformed and regene­ rated by knowledge, looks across it, and recognises on the opposite ridge, in the far-shining cities and stately porticoes, in the art, politics, and science of , • antiquity, many more ties of kinship and sympathy than in the mighty concave between, wherein dwell his Christian ancestry, in the dim light of scholas­ ticism and theology. The birth of Christianity being on this wise—viz., having taken place in an era of decay and death of art and philosophy, of knowledge, nf wealth, of population, of progress in every form— and the absence of these things having ! been one of the chief negative conditions of its growth and prosperity, we must look for the sources of its nourishment . in another direction than these; not in knowledge, or the eager questioning spirit which leads to knowledge, but in the humble spirit which believes and accepts on trust the word of authority; not in regulated industry, wrhich aims at constant increase and accumulation of wealth, but in the resigned poverty which, scorning this world, lays up riches in heaven; not in political freedom and I popular government, which aims at the progressive well-being of all, but in the stern rigour of arbitrary power, which coerces the vicious and refractory into a little order during their brief sojourn on earth. In the decline and fall of Rome, or, as it would be better to say, in the I final ruin of ancient civilisation, the con­ ditions favourable to this order of beliefs or doctrines spontaneously emerged. It is obvious that there could be no question of free institutions or settled industry in an age chastened by every scourge of war, pestilence, and famine; by arbitrary tyranny and military despotism. Know­ ledge, agai n, is ever; more sensitive than i i 73 capital to the influence of public and widespread calamities, inasmuch as the love of knowledge is rarer and feebler than the love of wealth in most minds. To a man of the fifth century on the lookrout for any sphere of activity for his energies no prospect presented itself in the least similar to what such a man would see now, or would have seen in Athens under Pericles, or in Rome under the Scipios. Public life existed as little as it does at this day in Russia. The pursuit of knowledge for knowledge’s sake was out of place in a time when daily existence was not safe from the swords of successive barbarian hordes, or, failing these, from the more cruel onslaught of the merciless tax-collector. That is to say, all the outlets through which modem energy is chiefly expended were then closed; a man could not serve the state as a citizen, he could not serve knowledge as a man of science, he could not augment wealth as an artisan or master of industry. There was only one thing left for him to do—to serve God. The last and perhaps the most impor­ tant legacy left by the ancient philosophy to the world was the doctrine of mono­ theism, the belief in a single supreme God. The evolution of this capital idea has never yet been traced with the care it supremely deserves. The common notion that it was wholly derived from the Jews is quite unfounded. The germs of it may be found in Greece in the earliest speculations of the Ionic and Eleatic philosophers. It gradually made its way, by the force of its inherent rationality, against manifold opposition, and among the Stoics reached a dis­ tinctness and elevation little, if at all, inferior to the highest Jewish conception of Jehovah. The Christian deity was a union of the two monotheistic concep­ tions, the Greek and the Jewish. Each element was necessary for the concep­ tion to attain its full universality and power. The Jew never quite trans­ cended his notions of a tribal God, who had been in an exclusive way the God of �74 THE SERVICE OF MAN his fathers from the beginning; the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in whom he had a sort of ancestral right of property, who was bound to him, and to whom he was bound, by covenant and mercies and promises, such as no other nation ever imagined. The Jew was, therefore, on a footing of familiarity and intimacy, so to speak, with his God, to which the metaphysical Greek, with his wide discourse of reason, never attained. To the Jew, God is the great companion, the profound and loving, yet terrible, friend of his inmost soul, with whom he holds communion in the sanctuary of his heart, to whom he turns, or should turn, in every hour of adversity or happiness. Hear the Psalmist: “ O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee. My soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh also longeth after thee, in a barren and dry land where no water is. For thy lovingkindness is better than the life itself: my lips shall praise thee. Have I not remembered thee in my bed, and thought upon thee when I was waking ? Because thou hast been my helper, therefore under the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.”1 On the other hand, the very closeness and specialty of the Jew’s relation to Jehovah made his con­ ception of the deity unsuitable to the office of a cosmopolitan God. I venture to suggest that perhaps the opposition of Peter and the Judaizing Christians to the wider views of St. Paul arose as much from a reluctance to part with their national God as from the narrow, cere­ monial scruples to which it is ascribed. The Greek was as inferior to the Jew in the depth and intensity of his religious sentiment as he was superior in mental reach and philosophic power. For him God is the deity of the intellect rather . than of the heart; He is the symbol of “eternal law all-ruling,”2 and the Hel­ lene all but attained to the impersonal and unknowable reality behind pheno­ 1 Psalm lxiii. 1-4, 7, 8 (Prayer-book Version). 2 “...... iirel oilre ftporois ytpas <lXXo re /J-eifov oilre Oeols, ?) Koivbv ael v6p.ov tv 31kt) vfivetv.” CleanthisHymn., 37, 38. mena, which the last word of recent philosophy propounds as the only rational object of worship. When these two, each in its way powerful and stimulating notions of God, coalesced into one, as they did in the teaching of St. Paul, the effect on the moral and spiritual world was as that of a new force, a new centre of gravity to which all thoughts and feelings naturally tended with an irresistible attraction. The rationality of monotheism as com­ pared with polytheism, of the idea of one all-ruling deity, instead of the anarchy of a crowd of gods and god­ desses thwarting each other, recom­ mended the doctrine to all superior minds, as infinitely truer, simpler, and better. Knowledge had progressed far enough to make the uniformity of nature a credible result of the operations of an eternal mind; but it had not gone far enough to exclude the notions of miracle and of providential interference on the part of the deity with human affairs. Moreover, the God of the Jews had become, through St. Paul, the God of the universe, and the “Father of all; in every age, in every clime adored.” The influence of the combined ideas on contemporary minds, as it is shown in the writings of the Fathers, is very striking. A tone of exultation and radiant joy seems to possess them when they refer to the new-found central object of their worship, which contrasts not only with the sad, desponding tone of the pagans, but even with Israel’s delight in Jehovah, which is rarely without a touch of gloom and fore­ boding, and with the meek resignation of the Middle Ages, which tremble even more than they believe. Compare the Te Deum of St. Ambrose with the Dies Ir<z of Thomas of Alano. The two hymns are parallel, often nearly identical, in thought, but profoundly divergent in sentiment. The one bright, full of hope and trust in God; the other sombre and anxious and care-laden, almost to the verge of despair. Such was the difference between the fifth and the �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE thirteenth centuries. The earlier Chris­ tians, reminded, no doubt, by the paganism which still survived, are never weary of setting forth the superior grandeur and consolation of their faith as compared to that of polytheism; and it is quite easy even for us to see how incalculably the religious sentiment must have been intensified when its scattered rays, dispersed among a crowd of deities, were all united in the barely tolerable splendour of one Almighty God and Lord. Nowhere does the passionate adoration, and flow of unbounded devotion, show itself with more fervour and power than in the Prayer for all Conditions of Men in the Alexandrian Liturgy. The original makes the frag­ ments of it which have survived in modern Liturgies appear very pale and tame. Here is a short specimen :— “ O King of Peace, give us thy peace, keep us in love and charity, be our God, for we know none beside thee: we call > upon thy name ; grant unto our souls the life of righteousness, that the death of sin may not prevail against us or any of thy people. Visit, O Lord, and heal those who are sick, according to thy pity and compassion; turn from them and from us all sickness and diseases ; restore them to and confirm them in their strength. Raise up those who have lingered under long and tedious indis­ positions ; succour those who are vexed with unclean spirits. Relieve those who are in prisons or in the mines, under accusations or condemnations, in exile or in slavery, or loaded with grievous tribute.”1 With these intense and absorbing feelings running in a deep but, after all, narrow channel, the Western European world turned to meet and advance into that dread and frightful time designated as the Fall of the Roman Empire. How a fragment or a germ of civilisation escaped destruction in that great catas­ trophe it is not easy to say. It is admitted on all hands that a great debt * Bunsen, Analecta Ante-Nicena, pp. 24, 109. 75 is owing to the Christian bishops of those days, who were the only officials clothed with authority and honour, who survived the wreck of the Roman bureaucracy. Although this fact re­ dounds rather to the credit of epis­ copacy than of Christianity, still a fair criticism must admit that as, without the previous dignity and prestige obtained by the Christian religion, bishops would not have been there, or in a position to discharge their functions, the final result must be credited to the new faith. It is the more incumbent upon us to acknow­ ledge and assert this as at a later date the part played by Christianity in politics was very nearly wholly evil. In attempt­ ing to estimate, as was proposed, the utility of Christianity in the past, it will simplify our task if we divide the subject under three heads, and consider its Political, Philosophical, and Spiritual action in the world. 1. The Political action of Christianity. Owing to well-known historical reasons, the natural and legitimate action of the politics suggested or approved in the New Testament was a long time in showing itself. The courtliness of the bishops who incensed Constantine and Theodosius was evidence that Christian prelates, as such, had no objection to arbitrary power. But that is hardly a reproach, when nothing but arbitrary power was possible. Under the Catholic feudal regime the Church was more often in an attitude of hostility to the secular power than in alliance with it. While the Church was the rival of the State, and bid high for supremacy, it could not coalesce with the State and support its despotic pretensions. But when, at the end of the Middle Ages, the monarchies of Europe definitively got the upper hand, and aimed straight at arbitrary power, the Church, so far from opposing, was only too ready to help them. A number of texts, which had been overlooked before, were cited to prove the absolute duty of every Christian man to yield passive obedience to kings and governors. It was one of the most critical turning �76 THE SERVICE OF MAN points in human evolution. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the battle of freedom was fought out. All the monarchies of Europe were moving with rapid strides towards despotism. Nothing can deprive the Dutch of the honour of having been the first to step into the breach and defend, against apparently overwhelming odds, the cause of liberty. The English followed them, nobly but somewhat tardily, under Cromwell. All through this bad time the Christian Church threw its whole weight on the side of oppression; and the point to be noticed is that it had the fullest scriptural warrant for its action, and could not conscientiously have done otherwise. We have all long ago for­ gotten the opposition of our Jacobites to freedom, and the narrow escape we had of falling under arbitrary power. The weak and worthless Stuarts, with their immense ambition and feeble faculties, were not the chief danger. That lay in the adherence to their pre­ tensions of such saintly men as Bishop Ken, and such noble champions of moral purity as Jeremy Collier. And these men, as they believed all scripture, believed also these texts: “ Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God.” “ Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s sake.” “ Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear; not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward.” Professor Sewell, commenting on these passages, says with complete truth: “ It is idle, and worse than idle, to attempt to restrict and explain away this positive command. And the Christian Church has always upheld it in its full extent. With one uniform, unhesitating voice it has pro­ claimed the duty of passive obedience.”1 It may be objected that the Puritans and other Christian sects have taken a different view of their religious duties, and shown themselves brave champions 1 Christian Politics, p. iii. of civil freedom. To which it may be replied that the Puritans, when they were oppressed by Laud and Charles, showed the common human faculty of looking away from and ignoring incon­ venient facts which told against them and their cause ; they passed over these parts of Scripture. Even Locke, in his answer to Filmer, never attempted to expound these formidable texts in a sense favourable to his arguments ; like the able controversialist that he was, he felt that the, less said on that subject the better. But further, the Puritans, by their partiality for the Old Testament, became almost Jewish in sentiment, and imbibed a portion of the anti-monarchical spirit of the Hebrew prophets and priest­ hood. It was not one of these who would have said, “Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers.” And yet, again, the Puritans, when they became supreme in America, showed that they could be as oppressive and intolerant as any Catholics or Anglicans in Europe. It is not necessary to expatiate at any length on the import and effect of this authentic Christian and scriptural teach­ ing. We can easily afford to let bygones be bygones. But when the most im­ modest and unfounded claims are put forward in behalf of Christianity as an unfailing and universal benefactor to mankind, we may certainly be allowed to point out that for two centuries it was a consistent and determined enemy of human liberty and welfare. It took the side of the Stuarts, Bourbons, and Hapsburgs against their subjects, and it was bound to do so by its own principles. An agnostic may pardon this, as one of those errors of which the past is full. But a Christian, who believes in the perennial value and beneficence of his doctrine, must, one would think, expe­ rience certain qualms in moments of retrospection. 2. The influence of Christianity on speculative thought has been far more salutary than it has been on politics, and this not from any accidental circumstance, �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE but in consequence of essential qualities in the doctrine itself. It cannot be a mere accident that, of the three mono­ theistic religions, Christianity alone has produced elaborate systems of theology, which in depth and compass can com­ pare with any systems of philosophy, ancient or modern. The Jews and Mohammedans have each had their disputes and controversies inside their own confessions, from which the odium theologicum has not been wanting; but their puny differences cannot be com­ pared to the splendid, far-reaching dis­ cussions which have repeatedly filled the Christian Churches with the most vigorous and brilliant intellectual life. The sub­ ject cannot be treated adequately here. It will suffice to point to the intellectual revival which followed the spread of Christianity, and gave to the world the whole literature of the Fathers, Greek and Latin, in the third, fourth, and fifth centuries, at the very time when pagan literature had fallen into sterility and decrepitude. Even Gibbon, no favour­ able witness, acknowledges this. Of all writers who have used Latin as their mother tongue, it is no exaggeration to say that St. Augustine is by far the most original, suggestive, and profound.' He is a genuine thinker, not a mere rhetori­ cian like Cicero, Seneca, and the rest. The controversies of the fourth century, which have given rise to much tasteless ridicule, notably the Arian controversy, and the witticism suggested that it was preposterous that the world should be divided into hostile camps by a diph­ thong, these controversies were mentally the most stimulating discussions, not only which the age admitted of, but which have ever occupied men’s minds. All the faculties of the reason and logical understanding were brought into play, subtlety the most acute, and discourse of reason the most lofty. When the western world sank into barbarism in the sixth, seventh, and eighth centuries, theological controversy largely ceased; it was a sufficient task for the West to keep alive, and intellectual luxuries 77 had to be dispensed with. But the moment the warmth of reviving civilisa­ tion returned to the stiffened minds of the West, deep and searching controversies recommenced. It would be interesting to show how all this mental activity sprang immediately or remotely from the central Christian doctrine, the Divinity of Christ. A long struggle was needed, to establish that doctrine, but it was, worthy of a long struggle. The difference between “ homoousion ” and “ homoiousion ” is only that of a single letter,, but, as Emile Saisset well said, “ Probe the matter to the bottom; between. Jesus Christ, man, and Jesus Christ,. man-God, there is infinity; there is, if one may so speak, the whole thickness of Christianity.” The subsequent contro­ versies, the Monothelite, the Monophysite, and others, are obviously due to the same origin; and all through the follow­ ing ages, the Scholastic period, the Re­ formation, the Jansenist and Jesuit epoch, down to Strauss and Moehler, the same great doctrine has been, in a greater or lesser degree, a potent stimulus at once of philosophical inquiry and his­ torical research. 3. It is in the action of Christian doctrine on the human spirit that we see its power in the highest and most, characteristic form. Neutral or injuriousin politics, favourably stimulating in the region of speculative thought, its influ­ ence on the spiritual side of characters, naturally susceptible to its action, has been transcendent, overpowering, and un­ paralleled. The restriction to characters “ naturally susceptible ” will probably be resented, but it cannot be denied. The great mass of men have at all times been feebly sensitive to the higher _ spiritual influences of Christianity. It is a fact which all preachers of every denomination are for ever denouncing and lamenting. The true Christian saint is the rarest pro­ duct in every Christian Church. What is even more noteworthy is that the terrible menaces of God’s wrath and damnation, which, till quite recent times, have been universally believed by Christian men, �78 THE SERVICE OF MAN have been equally inoperative; and this to such a degree that the truly con­ verted and repentant sinners, those who have set about working out their salva­ tion in fear and trembling, have ever been lost in wonder and horror at the reckless folly of the bulk of mankind in leading the lives they did, coupled with their nominal beliefs. Convinced and earnest Christians are always compelled to regard it as madness, or a superlative proof of Satan’s power. Volumes of quotations could be given from the highest and best authorities in support of this, as every one conversant with religious literature will be aware. I will restrict myself to two, taken from the works of illustrious men, each in his own confession among the brightest examples of Christian virtue—Blaise Pascal and Richard Baxter. Pascal says :— “ Rien n’est si important a l’homme que son etat; rien ne lui est si redoubt­ able que l’eternite. Et ainsi, qu’il se trouve des hommes indifferents a la perte de leur etre, et au peril d’une eternite de miseres, cela n’est point naturel. Ils sont tout autres & l’egard de toutes les autres choses: ils craignent jusqu’aux plus legeres ; ils les pr^voient, ils les sentent; et ce meme homme qui passe tant de jours et de nuits dans la rage et dans le d^sespoir pour la perte d’une charge, ou pour quelque offense imaginaire a son honneur, c’est celui-R meme qui sait qu’il va tout perdre par la mort, sans inquietude et sans emotion. C’est une chose monstrueuse de voir dans un m£me coeur et en meme temps cette sensibilite pour les moindres choses, et cette etrange insensibilite pour les plus grandes. C’est un enchantement incomprehensible, et un assoupissement surnaturel, qui marque une force toute-puissante qui le cause.” (Pensees, chap, i.) Baxter says : “ Can you make so light of heaven and hell ? Your corpse will shortly lie in the dust, and angels or devils will shortly seize upon your souls, and every man or woman of you will shortly be among other company and in another case than you are now........ O what a place you will be in of joy or torment; O what a light will you shortly see in heaven or hell; O what thoughts will shortly fill your hearts with unspeak­ able joy or horror ! What work will you be employed in ? To praise the Lord with saints and angels, or cry out in the fire unquenchable with devils ? And should all this be forgotten? And all this will be endless and sealed up by an unchangeable decree. Eternity, eternity will be the measure of your joys or sorrows, and can this be forgotten ? And all this is true, sirs, most certainly true. When you have gone up and down a little longer, and slept and awaked a few times more, you will be dead and gone, and find all true that I now tell you; and yet you can now so much forget it. You shall then remem­ ber that you heard this sermon, and that this day, in this place, you were reminded of these things, and perceive these matters a thousand times greater than either you or I could here con­ ceive; and yet shall they be now so much forgotten?”1 That these are only fair samples of the tremendous -stimulants applied by preachers to awaken Christian sinners to a sense of their guilt and danger will be admitted, I suppose, on all hands; and yet it is equally admitted that they are practically of very slight effect. Baxter, a few pages before, had declared that “the most will be firebrands in hell for ever.” And no theologian with a character to lose, till quite recent times, would have had a doubt about it. On theological grounds the matter is sufficiently perplexing. True believers, like Pascal and Baxter, have at all times found that in this particular the con­ duct of men was hardly to be explained. If they believed God’s promises and threats, why were their lives such a practical denial of faith in them? The real answer, which divines could not be expected to give, was that the bulk of men had neither sufficient logic, 1 Baxter’s Call to the Unconverted. �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE imagination, or tenderness of heart and conscience to assimilate the whole im­ portance and bearing of the Christian scheme. A strong head, which accepted the premises of the Christian doctrine, would not hesitate to work out the con­ clusions. But the majority of men have not strong heads. A powerful imagina­ tion, which realised the awful prospect of a future judgment, and the eternity of bliss or woe consequent upon it, would be only too much appalled by the thought; as cases of religious madness sufficiently show. The truly meek and tender-hearted, again, have a natural turn for piety; as we see by the negroes, who seem to obtain a saintly spirit of detachment and self-renunciation with far greater ease than the more energetic races of Western Europe. But when among the Western Europeans the saintly character, under the combined influences of education and natural endowment, is evolved, the result, as might be supposed, is far more striking, on account of their superior fibre and temperament and general brain-power. The true Christian saint, though a rare phenomenon, is one of the most wonder­ ful to be witnessed in the moral world; so lofty, so pure, so attractive, that he ravishes men’s souls into oblivion of the patent and general fact that he is an exception among thousands or millions of professing Christians. The saints have saved the Churches from neglect and disdain. The hope, even the asser­ tion, has always been that all men could be like them, if only—the con­ dition is not easily reduced to words, and cannot be stated in a manner generally satisfactory, but the implication always is that but for some fault in man, or the wiliness of Satan, sanctity might be universal. It would be as rational to say that the poetry of Shakespeare, the music of Beethoven, and the geometry of Lagrange were accessible to all men. The genuine saint is a moral genius of a peculiar kind ; he is born, not made; though, like all men of genius, he is sure, sooner or later, to acquire the best educa­ 79 tion and that most adapted to his powers. Saintliness is not confined to Christianity. There have been Pagan and Moham­ medan saints; and it would not be easy to find, even in the Christian Calendar, men more naturally saintly than Marcus Aurelius and Abu Beker. What needs admitting, or rather proclaiming, by agnostics who would be just is, that the Christian doctrine has a power of culti­ vating and developing saintliness which has had no equal in any other creed or philosophy. When it gets firm hold of a promising subject, one with a heart and a head warm and strong enough to grasp its full import and scope, then it strengthens the will, raises and purifies the affection, and finally achieves a con­ quest over the baser self in man, of which the result is a character none the less beautiful and soul-subduing because it is wholly beyond imitation by the less spiritually endowed. The “ blessed saints ” are artists who work with un­ earthly colours in the liquid and trans­ parent tints of a loftier sky than any accessible or visible to common mortals. Perhaps there is a certain rashness in attempting to illustrate these remarks by concrete instances of saintly detachment and self-renunciation. Hagiology is not a favourite form of literature nowadays; and it must be admitted that in the lives of many saints, especially of mediaeval times, unpleasant traits and circum­ stances connected with the superstitions of the age are often found in close neighbourhood with virtues the most beautiful and attractive. Equity de­ mands that we should make the same allowance for men’s erroneous concep­ tions of duty as we do for their erroneous conceptions of intellectual truth, in accordance with the standards and cul­ ture of the times. We do not think worse of a philosopher’s intellect, who lived in antiquity or the Middle Ages, because he held a number of absurd opinions and theories in astronomy, chemistry, and biology. Those who believe in the empirical origin of moral truth are bound to be consistent and �8o THE SERVICE OF MAN show the same charity in the one case as in the other. If we take the case of Saint Louis, King of France, we must admit that a man of a more saintly character never, perhaps, existed. If we consider the temptations to which his high position necessarily exposed him, and the completeness with which he surmounted every unholy and selfish thought or act, it is difficult not to regard him as the best man that ever lived. Yet it is obvious that in many instances his notions of duty were very wrong or perverted. But though his conscience may not have been always enlightened, his heart was ever right. His abortive and ruinous crusades were the cause of vast misery and harm ; but we cannot wonder that so devout a man strove to carry out one of the great religious ideas and duties of the time, and none the less so because symptoms were arising that the paramount nature of the duty was begin­ ning to be questioned. In his private life he saw sometimes amiss—saw duties where none existed. I refer to his ex­ aggerated submission to the imperious temper of his mother, his excessive and often repulsive self-mortifications. But, this being fully allowed, there remains a clear surplus of untarnished virtue rarely surpassed. There are few tests of a man’s spiritual condition more searching and decisive than the temper with which he bears unmerited insult and railing speech. I do not refer to mere self-command, to the self-respect which forbids an answer in kind, and imposes an external calmness of manner on a swelling indignation within. The man of the world, when it suits him, can attain to this much, which yet is not little, considering the common “ impotentia” of mankind. The question is not one of self-mastery under, but of superiority to, insult, which feels no anger or resentment at insolence or con­ tempt ; and this not from an abject and craven spirit, but from living in a plane of feeling up to which personal insult does not reach. This equanimity in no wise prejudges the question whether injurious language should not be reproved, and in some cases punished, as by a judge for a contempt of court. We are only concerned with that serenity of spirit which is not touched or wounded by opprobrious speech, and all will admit that it is a very rare gift. The following anecdote told of St. Louis shows the way in which he endured insult:— As he was sitting in the Court of Par­ liament, the highest tribunal in France, a woman named Sarrette, who was interested in a suit then being heard, and perhaps dissatisfied with the decision, exclaimed to the king : “ Fie, fie 1 a fine king of France you are; much better were it if another were king. You are only the king of the monks and friars, and the wonder is you are not turned out of the kingdom.” The ushers wanted to strike the woman, and expel her from the court. But Louis would not allow it, and said : “ What you say is very true, and I am not worthy to be king. It would have been much better had it pleased God that another had been put in my place, who knew better how to govern the kingdom and he ordered his chamberlains to give the woman money. In this last act most moralists would admit that Louis was mistaken. To reward a scold for unseemly conduct in a court of justice cannot be considered justifiable. A fine and imprisonment might have tarlght Sarrette a useful lesson; it is clear that she needed one. As a jurist the king was to blame. But the meekness of spirit, which could suggest such an answer to a king and judge, in reply to a gross insult, was surely very wonderful. Louis’s justice, temperance, and entire self-abnegation in every relation of life are too well known from one of the most charming of mediaeval chronicles,, the Mtmoires of Joinville, to make it needful to dwell upon the subject. But to the above-cited example of his humility, it may be well to add an equal proof of’ his firmness, and that in presence of that very priesthood to whom he was accused of being submissive. “ I saw hirm �IVHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE another time,” says Joinville, “at Paris, where all the bishops informed him that they wished to speak with him ; and the king went to the Palace—the law-courts —to hear them. There was Guy, Bishop of Auxerre, who spoke to him as follows, in the name of all the prelates: ‘Sire, the lords who are here, the archbishops and bishops, have charged me to tell you that the Christian faith is perishing in your hands/ The king made the sign of the cross, and said : ‘ But tell me how this comes to pass.’ ‘Sire,’ resumed the bishop, ‘ the reason is that people now­ adays think so lightly of excommunica­ tion that they allow themselves to die rather than be absolved, and will not give satisfaction to the Church. The bishops request you, sire, for the love of God, and because it is your duty, to give orders to provosts and bailiffs that all who have remained excom­ municated for a year and a day should be constrained, by the seizure of their goods, to receive absolution.’ To which the king replied, that he would willingly command it in those cases in which guilt was clearly proven. Where­ upon the bishop answered, that the bishops would not consent, at any price, to that condition, and that the royal power had no right to take cognisance of ecclesiastical causes. Then the king said that he would not interfere; and that it would be against God and reason to force people to obtain absolution when the clergy did them wrong. ‘ And I will give you an example of this,’ he went on to say—‘ the case of the Earl of Brittany, who pleaded in a state of excommunica­ tion for seven years against the prelates of his province, and with such effect that the Pope has condemned them all. If, therefore, I had compelled the Earl of Brittany to seek absolution in the first year, I should have sinned against God and him.’ And the prelates had to sub­ mit,” says Joinville; “and I never heard that the subject was brought up again.” There was no false humility here, but, on the contrary, rare strength, for all it was so softly spoken. Some years after 8i Louis published the famous Pragmatic Sanction, the French equivalent to our English Statute of Praemunire, which laid the foundation of the liberties of the Gallican Church in opposition to the See of Rome. I do not merely admit, but strongly maintain, that St. Louis was a man of such moral elevation and tenderness of nature that in whatever age of the world he might have lived, and whatever creed he had held, he would have been distin­ guished as just, upright, and self-sacri­ ficing in an unusual degree. But I think it equally certain that living when he did, at the brightest moment in the Ages of Faith, when the emotional effect of Christianity was at its height, and least disturbed by intellectual opposition, his spirituality was intensified by his creed, till he seems more like one of the angels who bow before the Great White Throne than a denizen of common earth. And this is the legitimate and consistent result of Christian training carried to its final perfection by lofty and heroic spirits; a complete transcending, not only of the sin and corruption of the world, but a passing away from and beyond the world, and human needs and relations, an upward ascent towards the City of God, even before the end of life. The highest crown the Christian can win is that of martyrdom, suffering death for the faith; by which no benefit is ever supposed to be conferred on men except, perhaps, the example left for imitation by others. The true Christian martyr does every­ thing for Christ. He forsakes all to follow Him, and goes to his doom re­ joicing that he has been found worthy to suffer for His name. The original mould in which Christianity was cast cannot be altered : that of a small congregation of meek and lowly men, exposed to the assaults of the “power of darkness,” which was allowed to prevail for a season. For them the world was no continuing city, for they sought one to come. In the “ tabernacle of this present life they did groan, being burdened,” and were “willing rather to be absent from the G �&2 THE SERVICE OF MAN body and to be present with the Lord.” The notion that the world can ever be a place of peace and virtuous happiness is never countenanced in the New Testa­ ment. The Christian is always considered as one in the midst of a hostile and evil society, from which he must keep apart; and, if only he is prepared, the sooner he can leave it the better. We find, accord­ ingly, martyrs almost without exception professing, no doubt sincerely, the utmost gratitude for being delivered from this mortal life. As Sir Thomas More said, “St. Cyprian, that famous bishop of Carthage, gave his executioner thirty pieces of gold, because he knew he should procure unto him an unspeakable good turn and More himself, when about to suffer, and the executioner asked him forgiveness, kissed him, and said : “Thou wilt do me this day a greater benefit than ever any mortal man can be able to give me.” Heroic constancy, even to death, is the note of the martyr, and indeed of every true Christian. And it is this transcendental character of Christian perfection which has ever made it at once such an imperfect fosterer of morality, and such a stimulator of spirituality and heroic passion. No vestige of self may be suffered to remain in the true con­ fessor’s heart, in which every human desire must be burnt up by love of the Redeemer. A man must “hate his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also,” to be a true disciple of Christ. How utterly unequal average human nature is to this trancendent pitch of self-sacrifice, the past and present record of Christianity sufficiently proves. But some have been equal to it, and the heroism of the saints has been illumi­ nated by a radiance which seemed to descend direct from heaven. At all times and in all sects, the blood of martyrs has been the seed of the Church. To men, constituted as they are, the voluntary and deliberate laying down of life by confessors for conscience’ sake is always the most impressive and soul­ subduing of spectacles, conquering even the cruelty of the persecutors who are consenting unto their deaths. The “face of an angel,” remarked in the protomartyr Stephen, is not to be for­ gotten, and works miracles of conver­ sion and remorse in the solitude of the conscience, when the ghastly scene of stoning without the city, or the burning in the market-place, returns to the memory in the silent watches of the night; and the faith and meekness of the sufferer rise up like accusers from the world of spirits. The meekness and docility of the victims are a cardinal point. All bravado and self-assertion dim the lustre of the martyr’s crown. “ It has been a reproach to the sufferers in the Marian persecution that, smitten on one cheek, they did not invariably turn the other cheek to the smiter and the remark is true. If we compare the carriage of Rowland Taylor with that of Sir Thomas More, we are sensible of the difference. There can be no question as to the single - hearted piety and selfdevotion of either. But More, partly ■ perhaps by reason of his superior culture and humanist sense of the “ becoming,” showed a sweet resignation which con­ trasts favourably with the boisterous humour and self-consciousness of Taylor. “ His degradation was performed by Bonner : the usual mode being to put the garments of a Roman Catholic priest on the clerk-convict, and then to strip them off. Taylor refused to put them on, and was forcibly robed by another; and then, when he was thoroughly fur­ nished therewith, he set his hands to his side, and said : ‘ How say you, my lord, am I not a goodly fool ? How say you, my masters, if I were in Cheap should I not have boys enough to laugh at these apish toys ?’ The final ceremony was for the bishop to give the heretic a blow on his breast with his staff. The bishop’s chaplain said : ‘ My lord, strike him not; for he will sure strike again.’ ‘ Yes, by St. Peter will I,” quoth Dr. Taylor. ‘ The cause is Christ’s, and I were no good Christian if I would not fight in my master’s quarrel.’ So the bishop �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE laid his curse on him, and struck him not. When he went back to his fellow­ prisoner, Bradford, he told him how the chaplain had said he would strike again, and ‘by my troth,’ said he, rubbing his hands, ‘ I made him believe I would do so indeed !’ ” The saintly spirit would seem to be wanting here. Indeed, the temper which has fitted men for martyrdom has always been liable to the perversion of a fierce fanaticism and stubbornness, in which meek resignation is replaced by a savage combativeness regardless of conse­ quences. In his subsequent behaviour Taylor rose to a much higher strain. The scene on the February morning, by St. Botolph’s church, where his wife and children had waited for him, “suspecting that he might be carried away ”; the dialogue in the gloom, “for it was a very dark morning, and the one could not see the other,” reach the. extreme of tragic pathos. “His daughter Elizabeth cried, saying, ‘ O my dear father! Mother, mother, here is my father led away !’ Then cried his wife, ‘ Rowland, Rowland, where art thou?’ Dr. Taylor answered, ‘ I am here, dear wife,’ and stayed. The sheriff’s men would have led him forth, but the sheriff said, ‘ Stay a little, masters, I pray you, and let him speak to his wife.’ Then came she to him, and he took his daughter Mary in his arms, and he and his wife, and Elizabeth knelt down and said the Lord’s Prayer. At which sight the sheriff wept apace, and so did divers others of the company.” It is needless to repeat further one of the best-known scenes in English history. The point to be noticed is, that Taylor rose to the height of saintliness in pro­ portion as he laid aside his haughty carriage. His answer to the sheriff, who asked him, after his martyr’s ride through Essex to Suffolk, how he fared : “ Well, God be praised, master sheriff, never better; for now I know I am almost at home”; and his meek expos­ tulation to the miscreant who threw a fagot at him, “which brake his face, so that the blood ran down his visage 83 “ O friend, I have harm enough; what needed that ?” attain to the summit of Christian resignation. The death of Sir Thomas More has ever been regarded as one of the most sublime examples of Christian fortitude on record. His perfect sweetness and self-possession have melted all hearts. He did nothing to provoke his fate, but, on the contrary, everything that his con­ science allowed him in order to escape it. At no time was he aggressive or self­ asserting. When condemned, his car­ riage was at once meek and manly. “When Sir Thomas was come now to the Tower-Wharfe, his best-beloved childe, my aunte Rooper, desirous to see her father whome she feared she should never see in this world after, to have his last blessing, gave there attendance to meete him; whome as soone as she had espyed, after she had receaved upon her knees his fatherlie blessing, she ranne hastilie unto him; and without consideration or care of herselfe, passing through the midst of the throng and guarde of men who with billes and halberds compassed him round, there openly in the sight of them all embraced him, not able to say anie word, but : Oh, my father ; oh, my father! He liking well her most naturall and deare affection towards him, gave her his fatherlie blessing; telling her, that whatever he should suffer, though he were innocent, yet it was not without the will of God; and that she knew well enough all the secrets of his hart, coun­ selling her to accommodate her will to God’s blessed pleasure, and bade her be patient for her losse. She was no sooner parted from him and gonne ten steppes, when she, not satisfied with her former farewell, like one who had forgotte herselfe, ravished with the intire love of so worthie a father, having neither respect to herselfe nor to the presse of the people about him, suddenly turned back, and ranne hastilie to him, tooke him about the necke and diverse times togeather kissed: whereat he spoke not a word, but carrying still his gravity, tears fell also from his eyes; yea, there �84 THE SERVICE OF MAN were very few in all the troupe who could refrain thereat from weeping, no not the guards themselves.”1 To give one more instance of Chris­ tian martyrdom; none the less tragic because it was enacted, not amid the tumult and profanity of a public execu­ tion, but in the inner chamber of a man of genius. At thirty years of age, Blaise Pascal determined to “ give up the world,” and began that course of mortification and prayer which, there can hardly be a doubt, shortened his days. He forsook his scientific labours, by which he had won, as a youth, a foremost rank among the mathematicians of Europe, devoted himself to reading the Scriptures and meditating his great work on the Chris­ tian religion ; of which only fragments, in the form of the immortal “ Thoughts,” were ever achieved. The physical priva­ tions and pain to which he subjected his emaciated body are described at length by his sister, Madame Perier, in a bio­ graphy which for simple grace and pathos rivals the best of Walton’s “ Lives.” To avoid wandering and worldly thoughts when engaged in conversation, “ he took an iron girdle full of sharp points, which he placed next to his flesh; and when conscious of an impulse to vanity, or even a feeling of pleasure in the place where he happened to be, he struck the girdle with his elbow in order to increase the pain of the punctures.” He ate a certain regulated quantity of food, whether hungry or not, never exceeding it, however good his appetite, and never eating less, however great his loathing; and this, on the ground that taking food was a duty, which was never to be accompanied by any sensual pleasure. When his sufferings were acute, and his friends expressed commiseration, he would answer, “ Do not pity me; illness is the state natural to Christians, because it places us in the condition we ought ever to be in—suffering evils, deprived of all the pleasures of sense, freed from 1 Life of Sir Thomas More, Knt., by his greatgrandson, Thomas More, Esq.,p. 264, ed. 1726. all the passions which afflict us through­ out life, without ambition, without cupidity, in the continued expectation of death.” He mortified his affections not less than his body, and said that we should never allow any one to love us with fondness; in fostering such attach­ ments we occupied hearts which ought to be given solely to God; that it was robbing Him of that on which He set most store. “ It is not right that others should attach themselves to me. Even if they do it willingly and with pleasure, I should deceive those in whom I excited such a feeling. Am I not about to die ? —the object of their love then will perish. As I should warn people against believ­ ing a falsehood, however profitable to me, I should warn them not to attach themselves to me ; for their duty is to spend their lives in striving to please God, or in seeking Him.” At his death there was found sewn up inside the lining of his doublet two small pieces of parch­ ment and paper, on which were written in identical words a series of brief sen­ tences, of which the meaning was mis­ conceived by Condorcet, who first pub­ lished them. The supposition was, that it was a “ mystic amulet,” which Pascal had worn next his person out of super­ stitious motives. Its real character is perfectly clear: a solemn record of the hour and date of his conversion to God and to a life of asceticism :— The year of grace, 1654. Monday, 23rd of November, St. Clement’s Day, pope and martyr, and others in the martyrology. Eve of St. Chrysogonus, martyr, and others. From about half-past ten at night, till half an hour past midnight. Fire. God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob; not of philosophers and learned men. Certitude, certitude. Feeling, joy, peace. God of Jesus Christ. Deum meum es Deum vestrum. Thy God shall be my God----Oblivion of the world and everything save God. He is only to be found by the way taught in the Gospel. Greatness of the human soul. Righteous Father, the world has not known thee, but I have known thee. Joy, joy, joy 1 tears of joy. �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE have left him---------------------------- - ----------Dereliquerunt me fontem aquae vivae. My God, wilt thou forsake me ?__-----------------May I not be separated from him for ever. This is life eternal, to know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent. Jesus Christ----------------------------- --------------- — Jesus Christ------------------------ ------------------ ;— I have left him : I have fled from him, denied him, crucified him. May I never be separated from him. He can only be kept by the way taught by the Gospel. Renunciation entire and sweet. Entire submission to Jesus Christ and to my director. Eternal joy for one day’s suffering on earth. Non obliviscar sermones tuos. Amen. “ What a noble mind is here o’erthrown will probably be the thought of many readers. And yet, why should that thought arise ? Doctrinal differences apart, can there be a doubt in any candid mind that Pascal strove with all the force and sincerity of his powerful mind and passionate nature to attain Christian holiness, and that he threw himself at the foot of the cross as com­ pletely and unreservedly as a human being could? Are his austerities and mortifications objected to ? The form of his asceticism may be questioned by different schools of theology; but no earnest, thorough-going Christian exists who does not deny himself one way or another, and admit asceticism in prin­ ciple. Indeed, asceticism represents a tendency in human nature far wider than Christianity, and, though liable to frightful perversions, is one of the noblest qualities possessed by man. It is one of the higher forms of courage, which not only endures or disdains suffering, but posi­ tively courts it, and finds a passionate and fiery joy in the sharp sting of pain. If man had instinctively the universal horror of pain which some moralists suppose him to have, he would never have been a hunter or a warrior. The delight of self-mastery in some natures easily gets the upper hand, and leads, according to circumstances, to the volun­ tary search for danger and suffering, or to the stern refusal of sensuous pleasure. 85 “ Quae major voluptas quam fastidium omnis voluptatis ?” asks Tertullian. The spirit of self-sacrifice is just as much a factor of human nature as the spirit of self-indulgence, though, like all the higher gifts, less common. The deplorable thing is that the precious gift should be wasted and thrown away on useless objects. The hero who suffers to save others contributes a direct and tangible good to the world by his action, and even a higher good indirectly by his example. The ascetic who tortures him­ self to please a cruel god does equal harm in both ways, to himself and others. Even the old Hebrew saw this when he wrote that his Lord “would have mercy, and not sacrifice.” As regards Christian asceticism, especially in the grosser forms of physical, self-inflicted torture, it is a subject which has not received, it would seem, the attention it deserves from Church historians. It arose early in the Church, which, like the austerer philosophic sects, the Stoics and Cynics, was led, by the calamities of the decaying Roman Empire, to take a gloomy and despondent view of the moral government of the universe, and to see the finger of an angry God in the in­ cessant woes with which mankind were then scourged. And? indeed, it is not easy to see, on Christian principles, how voluntary and unmerited suffering can be supposed to be displeasing to God. The whole scheme of Redemption supposes that God was so pleased with the suffer­ ings of the innocent Christ that, in con­ sideration for them, He forgave guilty man. The sufferings of Jesus were entirely voluntary ; His buffetings, scourgings, crucifixion, were all endured to expiate man’s sin; the ransom for his dis­ obedience, the precious blood-shedding which obtained innumerable benefits. If Christians would imitate Christ, should they not do so in this particular, the most characteristic of His office ? . If agony unspeakable, born by the Divine Son, the Lamb without blemish, was well-pleasing to His father, why should it be otherwise in sin-stained man ? �86 THE SERVICE OF MAN Protestant notions on this subject may be more rational, but they are far less scriptural. The whole idea of Chris­ tianity, as given in the New Testament, is steeped in suffering. “ Blessed are they that mourn”; “Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” Why? Because “great is their reward in heaven.” The worship of the Man of Sorrows was not intended for the tender and the comfortable. “Who­ soever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it.” Those who assume a tone of sneering and contempt, for the mortifications of the Catholic saints, show that they are true heretics in the primitive sense of the word, inasmuch as they choose and select those words and parts of Scripture only which suit their preconceived views. Let us be rationalists by all means ; but let us be consistent rationalists, and consider the Bible as an interesting fragment of ancient Semitic literature. Those who profess to regard it as the Word of God, and yet ignore and neglect some of its clearest precepts, are not consistent. Any vitality which the Catholic revival of these latter years may have had in Europe or America is clearly traceable to its superior deference to the para­ mount and universal authority of those Scriptures which all Christians admit as binding in the last court of appeal. To return, however, to our more immediate subject—the spirituality of mind stimulated by Christianity, in the higher types of the Christian character. Within quite recent times three women have died, who, for complete detachment and recollection, for pro­ found sincerity and devotion to the Cross, may justly be regarded as the equals of any of the saints of old. I do not for a moment pretend to say that there have not been others equally devoted and sincere. Probably there have been many, to me unknown. But these are incontestably eminent enough in Christian virtue to serve as types of that spirituality which is the most characteristic result of profound Christian belief consistently carried out. The result is in many ways touching, and beautiful in the extreme. It is such flowers of exquisite perfume and beauty, grown in the garden of the soul, which still arrest the attention of a rationalistic age. And nothing can show how far the modern world has drifted away from the old Christian point of view than the fact that these three sweet saints have made so slight an impression upon it. Had they lived and worked as they did, in the Ages of Faith, their tombs would already have become sacred shrines, to which troops of pious pilgrims would be crowding to kneel and pray. Sister Agnes Jones, Mother Margaret Hallahan, and Sister Dora Pattison are the three pious women to whom I refer. Their lives have been written by loving hands; and, in the long series of religious biographies, more touching and graceful portraits would not easily be found. Amid many points of difference as to theological opinion, social position, and character, they yet had striking points of likeness. The passionate love and affection with which they inspired all who came within their influence show what warm-hearted, generous natures they possessed. Language seems to fail their biographers in attempting to render the devotion with which they were regarded. A dying pauper in the Liverpool workhouse said he thought he was in heaven when Agnes came to his bedside. A patient of Sister Dora stood “ up and reverently pulled his forelock as if he had pronounced the name of a saint or angel,” every time he mentioned her. Of Margaret it is written: “What struck me most in our dearest mother was her largeness of heart, and the total absence of self in all her words and actions.” A common trait of these remarkable women was a splendid physique and immense bodily strength. Agnes, the least distinguished �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE in this respect, was yet capable of enduring extraordinary bodily fatigue. “ After a whole night on duty in St. Thomas’s Hospital, she thinks it lazy to go to bed, and spends the day in walking and paying visits.”1 Of Dora, the surgeon of the Epidemic Hospital said : “ Sister Dora could set up all night and work all day with little or no rest; and, as far as I could judge, she was neither physically nor mentally the worse for it. Her strength was superhuman. I never saw such a woman.” And this will not appear an over-statement in the light of the following anecdote : “A delirious patient, a tall, heavy man, in the worst stage of confluent small-pox, threw him­ self out of bed in the dead of night, and with a loud yell rushed to the door before she could stop him. She had no time for hesitation, but at once grappled with him, all covered as he was with the loathsome disease. Her combined strength and determination prevailed, and she got him back into bed, and held him there by main force until the doctor arrived in the morning.”2 Margaret, if possible, was still stronger. Her biographer says: “ Possessed of extraordinary muscular power, she was rather proud of hearing herself called as strong as Samson; and when about seventeen years of age, seeing some men hesitate to lift a great iron stove, she thought to put them to shame, and carried it unassisted to the top of the house.” All three were brave, but Dora was lion-hearted beyond compare, and would face drunken ruffians in the slums of Walsall, into which the police would only venture with caution. All had powerful minds, though in no one of them had education been carried very far. Indeed, Margaret was wholly illiterate, and never mastered ortho­ graphy, geography, or arithmetic. Agnes had the usual education of a young lady of family and position forty years ago. Dora probably was the best trained of 1 Life, by her sister, p. 160. 2 Life, by Miss Lonsdale, p. 159. 87 the three. But native vigour of mind supplied all defects, and each showed a great faculty of government and organi­ sation, though in different degrees. Agnes, who died young, had not time to show her full power; but the last three years of her life, in charge of the Liverpool workhouse, with its fifteen hundred inmates, testified to her gifts in that direction. Dora was a lovely, fascinating despot, bending all hearts and wills by her supreme charm and force. Margaret was a born ruler, with thoroughly imperial qualities, who could have governed a state in perilous times as well as she governed her convents. If one might venture, in short, to imitate the nomenclature applied to the great Scholastics, we might call Agnes the Soror Angelica, so ineffably meek, resigned, and nunlike she was, for all her Protestant training; Dora the Sotor Practica, with her unequalled power of achieving work, whatever it might be; Margaret the Soror Dominatrix, by reason of her grand and imposing mind and character, which, in spite of her low birth and want of culture, made her more than the equal of the scholars, nobles, and ecclesiastics of her own Catholic Church. Now, is it not evident that all these women were simply women of extraor­ dinary genius ? Dora’s conversation was bewitching ; her alternate humour and pathos were the delight and solace of her nurses and patients, and made an ob­ server say that it was easy to see that she might have been a great novelist, if she had not chosen to be something greater and better. Margaret, though she could not spell the simplest words, showed, in her incessant correspondence, great powers of style. Agnes, though inferior to either in these respects, always writes with a simple, clear, and direct vigour which proves what a calm, strong brain she had. No one of them gave a thought to literature, but one sees that literature was easily within their reach, if they had aimed at it. Their distinction was founded on character, the supreme quality; warm, fearless �88 THE SERVICE OF MAN hearts, exquisite tenderness of con­ science, passionate self-sacrifice, and devotion to duty. Christians by training and inclination, they realised in their fervent hearts the meaning and purport of the gospel. According to the terms of their belief, “ they forsook all and followed ” Christ in their several ways— the Evangelical Agnes, the High-Church Dora, the Catholic Margaret. But even their pious biographers admit that, apart from the gifts of grace, which they were not likely to undervalue, their natural powers and endowments were extra­ ordinary. Of Margaret it is said that even at the first meeting the most prominent features of her character could not escape notice; “ the firm will, the clear and rapid judgment, the boundless power of sympathy, which won her the title of ‘ everybody’s mother.’” Miss Lonsdale tells us how “ a hard, sarcastic Scotchman,” who was a professed unbeliever, remarked of Dora, whose patient he had been: “ She’s a noble woman, but she’d have been that without her Christianity.” That is just the simple fact of the matter. Such heads and hearts as these are the property of no creed; they are the choice products of that maligned human nature which theologians tell us is cursed and lost unless it believes this or that article of faith. If the saintliness of these holy women depended upon their creed, why do not the thousands and millions who hold the same creed exhibit a like saintliness ? “ God did not give them the grace ” is the theolo­ gical answer ; and some are still satisfied with it. But the answer is evidently becoming unreal and meaningless. The doctrine of heredity and variation has deprived it of all weight. Strong minds and fervent hearts, like strong bodies, depend upon organisation; on the con­ stitution and quality of the brain. But brains “ are begotten, not made,” and grace never made a weak brain strong. The contemplation of these remarkable women suggests one or two more interest­ ing points of view. i. An experience of some eighteen centuries may be considered conclusive as to the limited hold which Christianity is capable of taking on mankind at large. From the days of St. Paul to the present time, the apathy and worldliness of the great mass of men and women calling themselves Christians has been the constant lamentation of all sincere preachers. Indeed, the parable of the Sower clearly announces that the fact was to be expected. The seed falls in four different places, and only in one does it bear fruit—where it fell on good ground. The Wicked one, the want of root, the cares of this world, and de­ ceitfulness of riches prevent its growth in the other places, which are evidently supposed to cover by far the larger area; and the parable of the Marriage of the King’s Son, with its conclusion, “ Many are called but few are chosen,” leaves no doubt on the matter. The obvious deduction is, that Christianity is only adapted to a very limited number of minds; that, for one reason or another, the many, called as they may be, will not “ hear the word and understand it.” And this is exactly what has happened with­ out interruption for nearly two thousand years; Christendom has never been evangelised, nor near being evangelised. Even the smallest and most select com­ munities of religious persons have their backsliders and formalists, who are, to use Mr. Spurgeon’s words, as religious as the seats they sit on. The high Calvin­ ists boldly face the difficulty, and say : “ No doubt the great mass of mankind are predestined from all eternity to damnation; it is only the elect who are really Christians, and go to heaven.” Calvinism is out of fashion now, and re­ proached with suggesting very unpleasant notions as to the moral character of the Deity ; but it is consistent and scriptural; I do not say sensible or orthodox. So far from Christianity being the universal religion it is affirmed to be, it is not even adapted to the majority of its own believers. You must have a very fine and peculiar organisation to be a true �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE Christian; a special genius, which gene­ rally declares itself in early life, as special genius is apt to do. A Sister Agnes or Mother Margaret takes to vital religion with the spontaneous affinity that Mozart took to music, Newton to mathematics, and Keats to poetry. Religious genius, in its highest form, is as rare, perhaps more rare, than genius in any other form ; and exalted piety is as unattainable to the common herd as exalted poetry. Bishop Ullathorne, who must have had large opportunities of seeing nuns and others who aimed with special earnestness at a religious life, yet declares of Margaret that she was distinguished from every other holy soul that he had been acquainted with, by three extraordinary gifts, which he mentions : her peculiar love of God ; the pain it cost her to turn from Him to self-introspection ; and her angelic purity. “Rare as suns,” he says, “are those souls which seem to act on other souls like a sacramental power, shedding the rays of their own inward sense of God and vital warmth of spirit into the souls that come within the sphere of their action.”1 And similar testi­ mony as to the rarity of the endow­ ments of Sisters Dora and Agnes are forthcoming from those who have had wide experience of religious persons. Yet, good as these pious women were, I suppose no priest or theologian would say that they had attained the furthest limit of Christian perfection. They all thought in their humility that they had fallen far short of it. What hope, then, is there for souls less richly endowed ? And let us observe how this pursuit of a spirituality utterly beyond attainment by ordinary mortals, beautiful as it is when attained, operates injuriously on the morality of average men and women. The standard proposed is so exalted that, instead of attracting the ordinary person to aim at reaching it, it discourages and repels him. He is inwardly conscious that he cannot possibly reach it, even if he tries ever so much. His preacher * Preface to Life of Mother Margaret. 89 will probably tell him that, if he trusts in his own strength, he can do nothing; but that, if he will only put all his trust in God and Christ, the end will be attained. But that is just what he is unable to do. He is exhorted to exert a spirituality of mind which, by the hypothesis, he has not got. It is like telling a man that, if he will only fly, he will reach great altitudes. He has not the wings. Even the saints have generally had long periods of pro­ bation and wrestlings with God before they could attain to that detachment, spirituality, and perfect faith which enabled them to perform the act of com­ plete self-renunciation required. Yet it is recommended to the common multitude, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. And what is the result? Setting apart the openly profane and wicked, who do not give a thought to the sub­ ject ; and, without denying it, simply ignore Christianity ; the bulk of worldly, unconverted believers pass their time in a middle state between sin and repent­ ance ; believers, but not doers, of the Word; wishing they could embrace their religion with entire earnestness, but too well aware that, constituted as they are, they are unable to do so. Of course, reference is made only to the true-hearted, honest folk who transgress from weakness, and not to the spiritually dead Pharisee who has no doubt about his righteousness. Such are, on all hands, admitted to be worse than the publicans and harlots. But the mass of common-place people who go to church or chapel, who are neither very good nor very bad, neither exceptionally clever nor stupid, the enormous middle-class of mediocrities, fairly just, conscientious, and kind-hearted, can it be denied that they are constantly deterred from em­ bracing a serious view of life’s duties, just because a standard of such exalted perfection is proposed to them that they know it is no use attempting to reach it ? They perhaps try, and fail, and they are more disheartened than before. They �9° THE SERVICE OE MAN then live with a mildly evil conscience, knowing that they ought to do better. But they are at once told that that is not enough; that they must do their best; that they must be perfect, as their Father which is in heaven is perfect. Then they do less than they could, out of sheer, weary dejection. In what other art or science do teachers begin by placing the most arduous problems before their pupils ? Young mathematicians are not set to work on the Differential Calculus in their first lessons; young artists are not expected to draw like Andrea, and colour like Titian. But the young catechumen is told that the first thing he must do “ is to renounce the devil and all his works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all the sinful lusts of the flesh.” For the first precept of the first lesson, this must be admitted to be rather hard. How many saints, after a long life’s progress in holiness, have been equal to it ? To renounce the devil and all his works cannot be easy, if all that we are told of Satan’s power be true. But the “ good child ” is told that he must do this at once. By a subsequent after-thought on the part of the compiler, the learner is warned that he cannot do this and a great many other things of himself} he needs God’s special grace, “which he must learn to call for by diligent prayer.” Probably, to nine children out of ten “ diligent prayer,” commanded in this way, appears even more obscure and meaningless than renouncing the pomps and vanities of this wicked world. How cruel and heedless to place the last stage of spiritual evolution at the threshold of the neophyte’s progress. The whole Catechism and the larger part of sermons and Christian teaching are pervaded by the double error of supposing that the highest religious emotions are attainable by all, and that they may be inculcated at the earliest period of life. “ My duty towards God is to believe in him, to fear him, and to love him with all my heart, with all my mind, with all my soul, and 'with all my strengths Perhaps the most prompt and certain way of checking an emotion in others is to tell them that it is their duty to feel it. Tell any one he ought to feel grateful, and you will probably make him ten times more ungrateful than he was before. We may be sure that no one ever loved God for being told that it was his duty to love him. Wise and good mothers, by gentle and indirect precept and very direct example, have led their little ones to piety; but then they used the subtle language of the heart. The unreality and inefficacy of sermons chiefly depend on the transcendent disproportion be­ tween the doctrine preached and the capacity to receive it by the audience addressed. A mixed congregation, con­ sisting of men whose thoughts are absorbed in business and women occu­ pied with dress and frivolities, are spoken to in language which would not be inadequate to the spiritual needs of angels. The result is a discrepancy between faith and practice which the profane are not slow to tax with hypo­ crisy. Neither religion nor morals gain by such exaggerations ; only the scoffers at all goodness, who delight in pointing out that so-called religious people are no better than their neighbours. To get the best you can out of men you must not ask more than they can give. But if you ask for that in the proper way, nearly all but the thoroughly bad will respond. By asking for the impossible, you get little or nothing, or worse than nothing; a conviction that religion is grimace, and a disbelief in the possibility of virtue. And now let us contemplate these three saints from another side : that of the value of their work, its usefulness in this world, and its power of diminishing human suffering. Before I go further I shall be met with a refusal to allow the question to be stated in this way. It will be said that these ladies considered far more the souls than the bodies of their patients, pupils, nurses, or nuns, as the case may be; that, although they strove earnestly �WHAT CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE to heal the sick, none more so, yet their real and main object was to win souls to Christ. I am not inclined to deny so obvious a fact; but it is one with which I cannot deal, because, as regards the result of their labours in that direction, I can form no opinion. It is wholly beyond my power to verify any statement on that head. Of the numbers who died in their presence, soothed and com­ forted beyond doubt, by their assured faith, their fervent prayers, and “tranquil regardent faces,” I cannot tell whether any or none ever passed “to where beyond these voices there is peace.” The point must be left undecided, to say the least, for want of evidence of an objective kind, as distinguished from evidence of a subjective kind, reposing entirely on faith. Believers must be satisfied with their own belief until they can advance arguments far more cogent than any which they have hitherto produced in support of it. Agnostics cannot be expected to argue on principles which they reject. But this does not wholly remove a common ground on which discussion can take place. The temporal work of these good women is offered to us as a proof of what the divine spirit can do when it finds fitting channels. Now, I will vie with any one in celebrating the unselfish devotion, the self-sacrifice, the warm love and sym­ pathy, which they all showed in assuaging human suffering, bodily or mental. I cannot read their lives without tears, and the admiration I feel for them may be truly called passionate. I regard them as inexpressibly lovely and attractive human souls, who, led on by their own warm women’s hearts, nearly, if not entirely, conquered self, and became like the beautiful alabaster box of ointment of spikenard, very costly and precious, which, when poured out, filled the house with the odour of the ointment. But this profession does not preclude me from pointing out that, if the question is of diminishing human suffering, these pious workers did not take up the problem with any full sense of its magnitude; 9i did not begin high enough up in their efforts to stop the stream of evil and pain. While the value of good nursing can hardly be exaggerated, it can never be more than an adjunct of practical medicine. It is in biological and patho­ logical research, with the object of discovering and destroying the germs and origin of disease, that science now justly rests its main hope of serving humanity. And is there not already ample reason for looking on this hope as well-founded? The anecdote, quoted a few pages back, of Sister Dora grappling with the delirious patient in his loathsome condition from confluent small-pox, presents a graphic and even sensational picture of self-devotion for the welfare of a fellow-creature. The deed was heroic and admirable, whether the sufferer’s life was ultimately saved or not. But now, regard the method of science in encountering disease, and this particular malady of small-pox. A man of genius, with his eyes open, observes that milkmaids inoculated with cow-pox are not susceptible to the graver con­ tagion, and Jenner, after careful and elaborate experiments, announces the discovery of vaccination. There is nothing to appeal to the dramatic sym­ pathies in this, nothing to stir emotion in the ordinary spectator. On the con­ trary, at the time it was considered to afford material for ridicule as a sample of scientific absurdity. But which method has been most profitable to humanity ? Have all the self-sacrifices of all the Doras and Sisters of Mercy in the world spared mankind a tithe of the suffering which has been pre­ vented by vaccination? The epidemic of small - pox at Walsall, in which Sister Dora played so noble a part, appears formidable and shocking to us, with our modern ideas of the subject. But, in the last century, before Jenner, it would, in the dimensions it had, have been considered beneath notice. Half the population might have been swept away without attracting par­ ticular attention. That was the way �92 THE SERVICE OF MAN likened the temper excited in some with small-pox, and people were resigned. portions of the clerical world by the It was the finger or the wrath of God, recent growth of physical science to the chastening men for their sins. Now, as one might expect in these anger and alarm with which the savage biographies, in no one instance is scien­ views the progress of an eclipse; and tific inquiry ever mentioned as a duty of that the comparison was just these the slightest importance or value. It sentiments of Mother Margaret suffi­ would be simple indeed to look for any­ ciently show. It is a favourite theme thing of the kind in such a quarter. with theologians to maintain that the The point of view is wholly different. love of God leads to the loftiest and God present everywhere, doing or per­ purest love of man, and 1 John iv. 20 mitting all that happens, is the invariable is quoted with effect. But a long experi­ presumption. Sister Dora on one occa­ ence has shown that a verse of the sion offered to pay a visit to a friend. Psalms is often a truer statement of the “But,” she added, “of course, if the actual fact. “ Shall I not hate them, O Master comes and calls for me, and Lord, that hate thee ?” Can we doubt sends us in more cases, I cannot come.” that Mother Margaret, who, for all her The “ Master,” of course, is God; and warm-heartedness, could rejoice in so the cases were cases of small-pox, which dreadful a thing as shipwrecks, just he was supposed to send on the one because, in her narrow bigotry, she hand, and to call Dora to nurse on the thought they were a rebuke to men of other. This is the prevailing tone. But science, could also have assisted at an in neither of the Protestant lives is there Auto da Fe without compunction, if told any direct railing at science. In the it was required by the interests of her Catholic life it is very different. There creed ? we meet the flash of anger and hatred The particular case we have been for science, characteristic of the theolo­ considering is significant enough in itself, gian who fears that his God is in danger. as typical of the different methods of Considering her entire want of scientific theology and science, in their contention or philosophical culture, Mother Mar­ against human suffering. But it sug­ garet showed great penetration in her gests much wider issues: the whole remark on this subject. When she first question of the great campaign against caught sight of the Britannia Bridge she vice, evil, and misery. The principle exclaimed : “ Oh, how wonderful ! But of Christian charity is to palliate and if men do such things as these, they assuage physical and social evils in will begin to think they have no their last and extreme form. If you need of God.” And her biographers meet a beggar, give him alms; if you tell us she felt a certain satisfaction have no money, divide your cloak when some of the wonderful modern with him, as did St. Martin. Feed the discoveries came to nought. She was hungry, clothe the naked. In a word, glad to hear that the laying of the run with prompt love and sympathy to first Atlantic cable had failed; and, succour every case of mortal distress what is still worse, and is a stain on her that comes within your reach. Do this memory, she was even pleased that, “ in in remembrance of Christ, and be spite of storm-signals and meteorological blessed. He would be a cold and theories, the wrecks on the English coast shallow student of history who ventured increased, instead of diminishing in to speak of this spontaneous movement number.”1 “ I like these learned gentle­ of the heart with disrespect. The Chris­ men to know,” she would say, “ that tian care for the sick and infirm was God is master.” Professor Huxley once unknown to the pagan world. It was the best and only thing to do under the circumstances. Science was not; and 1 Life, p. 231. �WHA T CHRISTIANITY HAS DONE relief, such relief as could be given by poor, uninstructed fellow-men, was all that could be had. But science has slowly and gradually discovered and proved that social and physical evil and pain may not only be soothed, but anticipated and prevented. Not that it neglects palliatives of suffering; on the contrary, it applies them with an efficacy and power utterly beyond the conception of former ages. But it does more; it nips evil in the bud, or rather in the seed, and does not wait for its full efflorescence before it attacks it. Physical, social, and moral evil, disease and sin, it regards as so many pathological con­ ditions, which we may reasonably hope to correct, modify, and ultimately to suppress. As regards physical disease, this position would hardly be questioned even by the most orthodox. Several of the most formidable afflictions to which human and animal bodies are subject have already been got under control. Small-pox and typhoid fever are, we may say, understood and practically mastered; that is, they are not allowed to spread and devastate as they formerly did. A number of other maladies with which it once seemed hopeless to contend are even now passing into the class of the controllable disorders, as consumption, rabies, and cholera. Similarly with regard to pauperism and other social disorders. The prompt and easy narcotic of charity is not to be universally proscribed as uniformly evil, but it is ascertained to be of dangerous application, and liable to aggravate the evil it pretends to cure. Pauperism can only be combated with success by that knowledge of social and economic laws which corresponds to the knowledge of biological laws in the neighbouring science. It may be proper 93 and wise, in a given case, to divide your coat with a beggar; the only thing that a humane man would or could do. But it is vastly more important to ascertain the social and economic causes of the beggar’s existence; and, if he be a common phenomenon, to correct those breaches of the laws of social health which make his emergence possible. Again, with regard to ethics. Moral evil, or sin, can only be successfully corrected by such an investigation and knowledge of man’s mental, emotional, and physical constitution, that that part of conduct which is concerned with morals may be directed in a way that conduces to the highest individual and social happiness and well-being. In a word, the Christian principle is to act from spontaneous charity and bene­ volence with such means as are imme­ diately to hand: to regard evil, pain, and disease as trials sent by God for his own wise ends; chastisements, meant for our rebuke or guidance, to make us turn to him, and leave off caring for a temporal, wicked, and miserable world. The principle of science is directly contrary. It has already pre­ vented numberless evils in a way which would have appeared to our forefathers quite miraculous. Admitting that there will, perhaps, be always a residue of unconquerable evils which science cannot hope to remove, it is maintained that the resignation produced by a clear view of the impossible and inevitable is more complete than that which never wholly renounces the hope of divine aid. Mother Margaret was quite right in her fears; “but if men do such things as these, they will begin to think that they can do without God.” That thought is rapidly spreading over the civilised world. �94 THE SERVICE OF MAN Chapter VIII. THE SERVICE OF MAN The results of the previous inquiry would seem to be as follows :— 1. That a widespread tendency exists in this, and still more in other countries, to give up a belief in Christianity. And that the scepticism of the present day is very far more serious and scientific than was the deism of the last century. 2. That the supposed consolations of Christianity have been much exaggerated. And that it may be questioned whether that religion does not often produce as much anxiety and mental distress as it does of joy, gladness, and content. 3. That by the great doctrine of forgive­ ness of sins consequent on repentance, even in the last moment of life, Chris­ tianity often favours spirituality and salva­ tion at the expense of morals. 4. That the morality of the Ages of Faith was very low ; and that the further we go back into times when belief was strongest, the worse it is found to be. 5. That Christianity has a very limited influence on the world at large ; but a most powerful effect on certain hightoned natures, who, by becoming true saints, produce an immense impression on public opinion, and give that religion much of the honour which it enjoys. 6. That, although the self-devotion of saints is not only beyond question, but supremely beautiful and attractive, yet, as a means of relieving human suffering and serving man in the widest sense, it is not to be compared for efficiency with science. It is sufficiently obvious that, unless the tendencies which we have been con­ sidering meet with a strange and unex­ pected arrest, the result, in a not distant future, must be a general disappearance of Christianity from among the more advanced populations of the globe. In making this statement, one naturally I recalls the grave irony of the Advertise­ ment prefixed to the first edition of Butler’s Analogy, which is often cited as affording a good example of the way in which the hopes of unbelievers may be deceived. “ It is come, I know not how,” says Butler, “to be taken for granted, by many persons, that Chris­ tianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry; but that it is, at length, now discovered to be fictitious. And accord­ ingly they treat it, as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment; and nothing remained but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world.” The “people of discernment,” it is pointed out, were very much mistaken in their assumption that Christianity was discovered to be fictitious. The Analogy was written nearly a hundred and fifty years ago; and, for a fictitious system, Christianity still shows con­ siderable vitality. The number of new churches and chapels built, the zeal and activity of the clergy and missionaries, the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts, and similar facts, are adduced, not without a certain tone of triumph, as sufficient evidence of how groundless and shallow the hopes of the “ sceptic ” have proved to be in this particular case. Both the original text of Butler and the modern commentaries upon it rather show how remote is the scientific and historical point of view from the religious, and what a far-off stage of thought Butler’s expressions represent. The word “ fictitious ” alone, as applied to an ancient and widespread religion, jars upon the ear. As if great phases of human thought and feeling could be invented, like a stage play, or concocted �THE SERVICE OF MAN by designing priests for the sake of gain.' That this really was the current deistical opinion is certain, and it was crudely expressed in the famous silly verses :— “ Natural Religion was easy, first, and plain; Tales made it mystery, offerings made it gain ; Sacrifices and shows were at length prepared, The priests ate roast meat, and the people stared.” A wider knowledge of human nature, past and present, has made such trivial conceptions impossible. No form of the religious sentiment is now regarded as fictitious; but, on the contrary, as the serious and solid result of the stage of evolution in which it appears. Similarly with regard to making Christianity a subject of mirth and ridicule. No one with a reputation to lose would think of speaking with levity of the Christian or any religion. Nothing would be con­ sidered better proof of incompetence to handle such subjects than such a tone. The world is older and sadder, and on the whole wiser, than it was in Butler’s day. The alleged interruption of the pleasures of the world by Christianity is open to question as a matter of fact. Pleasures in abundance, and of a sufficiently coarse kind, were indulged in without difficulty in the Ages of Faith. The “ eat, drink, and be merry ” temper is generally discountenanced in theory; and, even in practice, is less rife than it was among our forefathers. In fact, the result of historical specula­ tion has been, with regard to Christianity, the same as the result of biological speculation has been with regard to man. Both have been taken from the isolation and independence in which they were supposed to exist, with reference to other members of the same order; and have been included in the larger classifi­ cation which places man at the head of vertebrate animals and Christianity at the head of supernatural religions. The biological view has prevailed, one may say, with surprising rapidity, considering the amount of prejudice which had to be overcome. The historical view has 95 naturally triumphed less completely, in­ asmuch as scientific history is a much younger science than biology. But the end will be the same. Christianity is already classed, by a large and growing number of the most competent historical inquirers, simply as the last and finest specimen of a group of beliefs, which, in one form or another, are co-extensive with humanity and history. If this view should prove to be slower in gaining acceptance than the biological view of the descent of man, the reason will, probably, be not wholly referable to the position of history in the order of the sciences. Distasteful as it was to human vanity to prove that man had descended from an anthropoid ape, which again had descended from a bird or a reptile, the idea still is one which can be put aside, which ordinary folk need not think of in daily life, and which involves no imme­ diate practical consequences to them­ selves. The final admission, that Chris­ tianity is not fictitious, indeed, in Butler’s phrase, but simply a form of thought unsuited to a scientific age, and therefore no longer tenable by an educated population, is attended by far greater difficulties. Very obvious practical consequences are involved in such a conclusion, which cannot readily be ignored. If the belief in God, Christ, and the other articles of the Christian faith must rationally be relin­ quished, people ask : What are you going to put in their place ? What rule of life do you propose to substitute for the one removed ? What is the successor to Christianity as a religion? Or will it have no successor ? And some even go so far as to inquire what is to become of those spiritual and religious instincts which have hitherto found their exercise and satisfaction in a religion now pro­ nounced to be incompatible with the new knowledge. Natural instincts are not to be suppressed by the theories of savants, however scientific; and it is argued that the religious sentiment is as much a per­ manent factor of human nature as the logical intellect, and must, necessarily, �9& THE SERVICE OF MAN survive its endlessly varied and often un­ stable conclusions. The religious sentiment, or that group of emotions so-called, is one thing, and the Christian or any particular religion is another. The religious sentiment has, during the course of ages, assumed many divergent forms, and at this day is repre­ sented in the most dissimilar and diver­ sified beliefs and ceremonies. The original elements of human nature are all capable of morphological develop­ ment and change in their manifestations, although they remain fundamentally the same. Nothing could well be a more permanent constituent of human nature than the instinct which leads to marriage; but few things have varied more than the institution of marriage. From marriage by capture, through polygamy, polyandry, down to the monogamy of modern States, which still show great differences of detail in their laws on the subject, the legal relations of the sexes have varied with the knowledge, culture, and civilisa­ tion of the times. It is the same with regard to government and civil institu­ tions, with regard to war and its usages, with regard to the notions of right and wrong. What reason can be given to lead us to suppose that the religious sen­ timent alone should remain fixed and crystallised in one form, and that a recent one, which supervened in historical times, and was preceded by a great variety of previous forms ? Obviously none. When, therefore, we are asked what religion we propose to substitute in place of the old one, now threatened with ex­ tinction, the answer is that no such pre­ tension is entertained for a moment. Religions are organic growths, and are no more capable of fabrication than animals or plants. The notion that indi­ vidual men can found religions—that is, invent them out of their own heads, and set them going, is on a par with the notion that men can found States and create policies which last for ages. Both notions were prevalent, and not irrational once, when neither man nor, society was conceived as subject to natural laws. So it was really believed that Lycurgus founded the Spartan State, and Romulus the Roman; that Moses founded Juda­ ism, and Mohammed, Islam. No mis­ conception could be greater, and none is more certain to disappear. That longprepared changes are often suddenly accomplished, under the inspiring leader­ ship of a great man, is beyond question; and it is quite natural that the great man’s name should be associated with the change in which he took a prominent part. But he did not make the change, in the sense of founding or beginning something new, which would not have existed without him. His function, and it was great indeed, was to have intellect enough to see the need of change, and courage and will enough to help it for­ ward, to direct forces which were already at hand. All great changes in Church or State exemplify this truth, in propor­ tion as we are able to observe them with accuracy of detail. Nothing is more certain than that, in one sense, Julius Caesar overthrew the Republic, and founded the Empire of Rome. But how long had such a revolution been pre­ paring ? From the days of the Scipios, or of Sulla and Marius. Or might it not be dated from the earliest con­ stitution of Rome, which rendered a municipal form of government inade­ quate, and finally impossible, for a wide Empire? All great social revolutions result from long precedent, although, perhaps, occult growth, as parturition, in the body physical, pre-supposes em­ bryonic growth. Similarly with regard to the Reformation. Luther, in vulgar Catholic or Protestant opinion, is credited with the whole glory, or infamy, of the revolt from Rome. But from the days of Wicliffe and Huss the entire Church had been seething with projects of reform; and Luther can only claim the honour of having, in the fulness of time, given the critical impulse which liberated forces accumulated during hun­ dreds of previous years. There can be no question, therefore, �THE SERVICE OF MAN of making and offering a New Religion to the world at the present juncture. Our first task must be to try and dis­ cover what is the spontaneous tendency of thought and sentiment on this matter. What is the direction which evolution may be expected to take ? If that can be ascertained, a great point will be gained. Three courses are always open to men called upon to deal with great social and moral tendencies. They may be blindly resisted ; they may be blindly stimulated and hastened; they may, by careful study and observation of their a nature, be largely controlled and directed; J that is to say, they may be dealt with in a spirit of reaction, or in a spirit of revo' lution, or in a spirit of orderly and con­ scious progress. Reaction, when con­ ducted on a large scale with unflinching vigour, by no means always fails. The Moslem Obscurantists in Spain suc­ ceeded in crushing Arab philosophy.1 The Catholic Church has several times ex­ tirpated opinions, by the efficient method of killing those who held them. In Spain, Bohemia, Italy, and Belgium, Protestantism was stamped out, like the rinderpest, by prompt and persevering slaughter. It is a method difficult of prolonged application; and it is gene­ rally avenged. The state of religion in Catholic countries, and the animosity felt towards it by large numbers of the proletariat, are not encouraging examples. The Protestants have not been behind r the Catholics in their willingness to prosecute, but they have seldom had equal power. In Ireland, however, they nearly reached the highest level of per­ formance in that line. With what disaster to all of us is now only too apparent. How evil, on the other hand, the revo­ lutionary spirit can be has been well shown by France in the eighteenth cen­ tury—first in speculation, and afterwards in politics. The precipitate conclusions of the philosophes, although proceeding on principles fundamentally sound, as ’ See Renan, Averroes. 97 subsequent results have p’roved, were yet marked by a heat and haste which led to the romantic reaction, and the Idealist and Transcendental Philosophies which nearly suspended rational speculation for half a century. It is unnecessary to dwell on the indelible harm done to orderly progress by the violence of the Revolution, which to this day supplies reactionaries with some of their best weapons against a large and generous liberalism. Perhaps the sober, prudent, middle course we have mentioned, which, while frankly accepting and using the new lights obtained, does not exaggerate their illuminating power, is destined in this age to avoid the dangers associated with either of the two extremes. The essence of practical religion at all times has been Sacrifice. However the origin of religion is to be explained—and anthropologists in later times seem to have elucidated the subject with much success by ancestor worship, the ghost, and other theories—propitiatory sacrifice has been the unfailing mark and memo­ rial of religious belief. It is unnecessary to produce evidence of a statement so redundantly supported. "What chiefly deserves notice in this connection is the progressive change in the character of the sacrifice, corresponding with mental evo­ lution. In earlier' times human sacri­ fices were, probably, everywhere regarded as the most pleasing and powerful with the deities. Every form of possession valued by primitive people was readily lavished on the altar of the gods, either to avert their wuath or to secure their favour; cattle, first-fruits especially, as at once the most costly to the worshipper and the most acceptable to the Divinity. In time this gross form of propitiation was transcended, and even the later Jewish prophets speak of it with disdain. As the conceptions of the moral cha­ racter of the gods grew loftier, the notion of the sacrifices calculated to please them rose in proportion. As men attained to worthier ideas of moral excellence, they recognised that sacrifice of their own baser instincts was likely to be the most H �98 THE SERVICE OF MAN pleasing offering to a moral deity. “ A wise man,” says a passage in the Insti­ tutes of Menu, “should constantly dis­ charge all the moral duties, though he perform not constantly the ceremonies of religion, since he falls low if while he performs ceremonial acts only, he dis­ charges not his moral duties.”* And the same law prescribes “content, returning good for evil, resistance to sensual appe­ tites, abstinence from illicit gain, purifi­ cation, coercion of the organs....... veracity, and freedom from wrath.”23 Yet the cruelty and obscenity of the early Hindu religion are beyond doubt. The frank indecencies and immoralities of primitive creeds are in time explained away by mystical allegories of the most spiritual purity. “ The lascivious form of a naked Venus,” says Gibbon, refer­ ring to the fancies of the Neo-Platonists, “ was tortured into the discovery of some moral precept or some physical truth, and the castration of Atys explained the revolution of the sun between the tropics, or the separation of the human soul from vice and error.”3 The primitive meaning of the phallus in India, according to Mr. Wilson, is entirely forgotten. “ The form under which the Lingam is wor­ shipped, that of a column, suggests no impure ideas, and few of the uneducated Hindus attach any other idea to it than it is Siva; they are not aware of its typical character.”4 The next point is that primitive reli­ gion had little or no connection with human welfare, apart from the action of supernatural beings. Its chief or only object was to guard the worshipper from injuries which came from the spirit­ world, or to procure him benefits from the same origin. From a natural, mun­ dane point of view, primitive religion was oftener evil than good. It sacrificed human life and property on the imaginary propitiation of fictitious deities. It is highly probable, indeed, that even the 1 2 3 4 Mill's History of India, Book II., cap. 6. Ibid., Book II., cap. 6. Decline and Fall, c. xxiii. Note to Mill’s India, loc. cit. most horrid primitive cults were indi­ rectly beneficial, as means of discipline, and of adapting to social conditions the semi-brutal instincts of prehistoric man. In that respect primitive religion re­ sembled war, which, destructive as it was in one sense, is still recognised as one of the most educational phases which humanity has passed through. But, just as the antagonism between sacrifice and morality was gradually overcome, so the hostility of primitive religion to human welfare was in time replaced by an approximation to concord between them. The angle of divergence became pro­ gressively less. Worship of the gods tended more and more to coincide with the welfare of man. The humanisation of the various polytheistic religions of the world has been very unequal, both in degree and rapidity, depending, as it necessarily must, on the unequal progress in knowledge and civilisation. The Hindus in three thousand years have made less progress in purging their primitive beliefs of their cruelty and grossness than the Romans did in five hundred years. But the general rule holds good, that a progressive people, even without foreign help from more advanced populations, tends to outlive the primitively barbarous and noxious elements of its creed, and to retain those which harmonise with general utility.1 The Christian religion has been no exception to this rule; in fact, it would not be easy to mention a religion which has profited more by the general growth of knowledge and civilisation than the Christian. It has been claimed, not without a show of reason, that it is a peculiar and exceptional merit of Chris­ tianity that it has been able to adapt itself to most unequal and divergent stages of culture, and that it has met the wants of barbarous and civilised races with equal success. Though the time is obviously approaching, if it 1 Polybius’s testimony to the value of the Roman religion, as enforcing honesty, is too well known to need quoting (lib. vi., cap. 56). �THE SERVICE OF MAN has not been already reached, when its alleged adequacy to the needs of civilised society becomes more and more questionable, it may be frankly ad­ mitted that Christianity has surpassed all other religions in its power of keeping up with human evolution. The fact is, no doubt, owing to the large element of Greek philosophy grafted on Christianity by the Greek and Latin fathers, and even by St. Paul. The religion would probably not have survived into modern times unless it had possessed this elas­ ticity and capacity of modification, which have allowed it to exist side by side with the most divergent beliefs on other subjects. A Catholic Christian of the fifth and one of the nineteenth century would, if they could meet in the flesh, agree in reference to the Creeds of the Church, but they would be able to agree in little besides. If we could have a conversation with the great St. Augustine, we should soon fail to find common ground for argument, whether as to matters of fact, principles of reasoning, or even as to the interpreta­ tion of Scripture; and it may even be doubted if the present able and accom­ plished Pope, who has so deep a venera­ tion for St. Thomas Aquinas, would not find a prolonged discussion on things in general difficult to maintain with the Angel of the Schools. Yet St. Augustine, St. Thomas, and Leo XIII., must be admitted to be thoroughly orthodox and authentic Christians. But this flexibility and adaptability of Christianity on the intellectual side are not the qualities with which we are chiefly concerned at this moment. The point I would bring out' is the incomparably greater em­ phasis laid by modern Christians on all that concerns human well-being than was usually done by their predecessors. In the old days the Faith, holy living, and especially holy dying, were the great themes of Christian preachers. The true Faith was literally all-important, as, without it, you were hopelessly lost, whatever else you might do or be. Hence, the Faith was to be fought for 99 and suffered for at any cost. Wars, massacres, burnings, tortures, were trivial considerations compared with the one thing needful, which alone could lead to heaven. And we know that these plagues were scattered through many centuries without stint or remorse. After the true Faith was gained, the next chief thing was to make a good use of it, and. by a holy life and a repentant death to. save your soul. Earthly miseries, famines,, pestilences, ignorance, chronic poverty, were lamentable, no doubt; but the famines and the pestilences were espe­ cially so, as manifestations of God’s wrath, who was thus chastising a wicked world. Their proper and only antidote was prayer, and repentance, and humilia­ tion before God, who might thereby be induced to stay his hand. Such afflic­ tions were incidental to the lot of man, the appropriate retribution for sin, to be borne with resignation. As for combating them by human means and knowledge,, with a view to suppressing them, if such an idea could have emerged, it would have been unquestionably pronounced impious and shocking. The only recog­ nised form of relief was charity : the rich must give of their abundance to the poor, and they would be repaid in heaven. The Church of Rome gave practical effect to this view by the admi­ rable and useful institution of, first, the Freres de la Charite, founded by the Portuguese Johann Ciudad, 1497, and afterwards of the Filles de la Misericorde, the work of the saintly Vincent of Paul, 1634. Every form of praise and honour is due to those good men and women who devoted themselves without stint to the relief of human misery, regardless of the more profitable pursuits of Church politics and theological controversy. But the very foundation of these institutions showed that they supplied a great want which had not been furnished by the Church before ; and they were, after all, only a small and subordinate section of the vast hierarchy which had shared the dominion of the world with the temporal power. St. Vincent of Paul met in the �IOO THE SERVICE OF MAN ranks of the secular clergy with some of his most stubborn opponents.1 A Now, it is hardly too much to say that in recent times the whole attitude of the clergy in all countries has been changed with regard to social questions. Nearly every form of relief now, in greater or lesser degree, passes through their hands. The improvement of the condition of the poor seems very often to be the chief occupation of many a hard-worked parish priest. To rescue •children from vice and temptation, to inform their minds with virtuous prin­ ciples, to clothe and feed their bodies, •to ameliorate the dwellings of their parents, and admit a ray of light and brightness into the squalor of their daily lives—these and similar objects occupy the time and minds of Christian ministers to a degree which was never even remotely approached in the past. In other words, Christian doctrine, or, at least, Christian practice, has been gradually brought into harmony with human and terrestrial wants, so as almost to run parallel with them. The world has much changed. The cessation of religious controversy is a surprising phenomenon. In place of the storm .and fury with which polemics formerly filled the air, we have now a great calm. The small sputter of theological disputes still occasionally heard is as the explo­ sion of squibs and crackers compared to that of the heavy ordnance in the mighty controversies of old. Thus we find two permanent factors running through the religions of the past in all their changes of outward presenta­ tion : sacrifices on the part of the wor­ shipper ; and a gradual approximation of the service of the gods to the service of man. Neither of these factors is the exclusive property of any one religion; and both of them in some degree, perhaps, may belong to all. They are quite capable of detachment and isola­ tion from the surroundings with which they are usually associated in theological 1 See Feillet, La Misire an Temps de la Fronde. creeds. Sacrifice admits of almost in­ finite degrees both in quality and quan­ tity, from an offering of a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons up to a hundred oxen; from the most partial control of the coarsest passions up to saintly abnegation of every impure or selfish desire. And the spirit of sacrifice, the postponing of self to others, the giving up what the natural man loves and values, whether possessions or cherished lusts, is so little restricted to the worshippers of a God or gods that it may be said in its highest form to be unattainable by them. The worshipper of a god never quite transcends the hope of a recompense for his devotion—not from men, but from “ his Father which seeth in secret,” and who shall reward him openly. And this feeling springs inevitably from the very conception of a deity, especially if he be God Almighty. A creature can be on no terms of recipro­ city with his Creator; he can only be a recipient from God, never a Tenderer back of good. The very thought of performing an act of kindness or sym­ pathy to God is absurd. The infinite disparity between the. two beings, man and his Maker, has as a consequence that “ every good gift and every perfect gift is from above.” Only to his fellows can man be completely altruistic, “hoping for nothing again.” That numbers of men and women among the higher races are capable of acts of unalloyed altruism, in which there is not a vestige of after­ thought tending to self-advantage, will only be denied by the naturally cynical, or by those educated in an evil religious or philosophic system. The mother who tends her sick child and scorns any counsels to spare her health and strength ; the rough miner who bids his mate seize the one chance of escape up the shaft, as he has a wife and children, whereas the speaker is a bachelor; the surgeon who sucks diphtheric poison from a dying child’s throat and dies himself in consequence—are examples of the love and sacrifice even now to be found in the nobler hearts. And it is �THE SERVICE OF MAN denying evolution in fact and theory to question the certainty that they will become less exceptional than they now are. But in this capacity of sacrifice regardless of self we have the purest essence of the best religions—a human quality which exists, which has been evolved in the long travail of the world, but which may be cultivated with pros­ pects of vastly greater increase now that its supreme beauty and price are per­ ceived and valued. When the mental and moral qualities of man are regarded as subject, in common with other forms of life, to the law of heredity and variation, their cultivation and improvement will be conducted on the scientific basis which has already produced such sur­ prising results in other parts of the vegetable and animal kingdoms. The plasticity of human nature is even yet but little appreciated, though what the Spartans, the Stoics, and the Jesuits succeeded in doing with their imperfect empirical methods is suggestive enough. But these, or the two latter at least, only contemplated the education of the individual. What is wanted is the con­ scious cultivation, enlightened by science, of society as a whole. As regards the end to which religions have in an unconscious way more or less tended—the general well-being—there will probably be little difficulty in admit­ ting that it is an object which civilised man has proved himself capable of attaining in a considerable measure already. The superiority of the modern nations, not only to savages, but even to their own not very remote ancestors, is beyond dispute; and this not only in reference to physical well-being, but to all the higher sentiments and endow­ ments of man. Imperfect as our social state still is, heartrending as the condi­ tion of the poor in town and country must be pronounced to be, it is, never­ theless, vastly in advance of previous con­ ditions, and our own sensitiveness and shame on the subject, though we are not yet sensitive and ashamed enough, are in themselves evidence of improvement. ioi Arduous as the social problem is acknow­ ledged to be, and sore as the suffering is likely to be before it is finally solved, few can deny that it is capable of solu­ tion, and that by human means. The abolition of laws which favour the rich and strong, and sacrifice the poor and weak, has, in a small way, begun, and we may depend that in a democracy it will not easily be arrested. A better distri­ bution and a moralisation of wealth are approaching with a rapidity which is not exaggerated by the panic fears of the amazed Few, who hear with astonish­ ment and horror that the world is-no longer made for idlers only. The period of social revolution into which we are about to enter will probably be marked by many mistakes, and not a few crimes. Man’s capacity for blunder is very great. He smarts for his blunders, and in time corrects them. But the point to be noted is that the social revolution will be ac­ complished on secular principles, that this province of practical life is once forall severed from any theological inter­ ference. The proletariat of Europe is resolved to have its fair share of the banquet of life, quite regardless of the good or bad things in store for it in the next world.1 It comes, therefore, to this, that the spirit of sacrifice evolved in the theologicaL 1 See the Times (which seldom outruns public­ opinion), November 18th, 1884. In the third leading article it is said, speaking of the East London Mission:—“The great enemy which has to be met in dealing with this class [the poor] is not active hostility, but total and almost impenetrable indifference. Hostility to the clergy, as such, cannot be said to be widespread in London...... The London artisan looks on the clergyman as at worst a man who is engaged in a work with which he individually has little or no concern; he does not interfere with the parson, and he hopes that the parson will not interfere with him.......Taken in the mass, the lower classes in London are too much occupied in the struggle for existence, and in the attempt to make their lives endurable, to give many thoughts to the other world.” The writer con­ trasts the very different temper of the Parisian ouvrier, who “regards the priest as a monster”; but he admits that there is an element of active hostility to the clergy in our midst. �102 THE SERVICE OF MAN stage is now severed from and inde­ pendent of its parent. Its office is no longer the same. Sacrifice to invisible godo, with prayer sent up to the immor­ tals, imploring pardon, or peace, or some earthly good, have afforded hope and consolation to the sons of men in the long, dark centuries when knowledge was not, when visible man and nature were so hostile that faith and trust in the unseen seemed the only refuge, that only “beyond the veil” was a sure friend to be found. A bitter experience has at last taught us that the immortals are deaf, that no prayers, however passionate, are heard, save by the care-laden hearts which utter them. Thus, the worship of deities has passed into the “ Service of Man.” Instead of Theolatry, we have Anthropolatry. The divine service has become human ser­ vice. The accumulated experience of mankind is beginning to bear fruit. Two things have been ascertained with suffi­ cient exactness to serve as guides, both in practice and theory. First, the kind of conduct needed by a social condition such as ours—that is to say, the outlines ■of a progressive morality suited to the present age, are fairly settled. Secondly, the kind of social condition desired, and ■already partially in view, which shall supersede the present inferior one, is also in its main features apprehended. The two factors work together to one result, “complete life carried on under social conditions.”1 The Service of Man consists in furthering both. The higher moralisation of the individuals composing the social group will raise the quality of the social group itself, and the improved group will react upon individuals and enable them to lead higher lives. In a word, we are now in a position to pursue human well-being as a conscious aim, with good prospect of success. We know fairly well the road along which we intend to travel, and we know the kind of human co-operation needed to enable 1 Herbert Spencer’s Data of Ethics, p. 130. us to do so; the type of character and disposition needed to render social help. And we know, further, that society possesses now, in a degree it never possessed before, the means of exact­ ing conformity to this type. Public opinion, as it used to be called, but for which a better expression would be the “collective conscience,” is already able to impose a standard of public and private morals, and to punish, with penalties keenly felt, a manifest infe­ riority to it. Even in the political world singleness of purpose, a true public and social spirit, are valued more than great talent and eloquence without them. A life of selfish ease and indulgence is pardoned to great wealth and position with less readiness than formerly; and, with the growth of democracy, such a temper must necessarily spread, both in extent and intensity. The remainder of our subject will, therefore, be considered under the two aspects just indicated : (1) the improve­ ment of the individual, and (2) the im­ provement of society. We can serve men firstly, and perhaps chiefly, by im­ proving ourselves, and this in all respects, physically, mentally, morally. Without a high standard of health, duties become difficult or impossible to perform, and our whole efficiency is lessened. In these days of increased knowledge, when so much of youth, and even of manhood, is taken up with preparatory study and training, the longevity of its worthier members is a distinct gain to society. A vigorous old age is able to accomplish out of all proportion more than several careers, however brilliant, cut short in youth. Few, or none, are now likely to question the value of mental improve­ ment. It remains true, all the same, that our notions of education are lamentably inadequate, and that the higher forms of it are not even conceived as possible or desirable in our so-called universities. As regards moral training, finally, , no one will dispute its paramount necessity; but the subject is obscured and the result vitiated by the emphasis laid by �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE the religious public, not on morals, but on repentance ; not on the vigorous and constant performance of social duty throughout life, but on making our peace with God, some time, it signifies not how short a time, before life closes. What humanity needs is not people who lead unsocial and wicked lives, and are very sorry when about to die—when, by the nature of the case, they can do no more harm nor good ; but people who, at an early period, begin to render valu­ able service to the good cause, and con­ tinue rendering more valuable service as they advance in years. We cannot take regrets and repentance in lieu of work; performance only avails. To prevent I 103 misconception, even for a moment, it may be added that, by performance, advance in spiritual life is by no means excluded; and that the contemplative life is not placed below the active life, but contrariwise, as will be seen further on. The improvement of society, again, is an object to which nearly all persons will declare themselves favourable. But many prejudices and passions, largely incompatible with any serious improve­ ment, will need to be overcome before our advance in that direction can become as rapid and assured as is desirable. There will be no want of work for those who wish to engage in the Service of Man. Chapter IX. ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE For this service to be efficient, it is obvious that men must be adequately trained for it. From time immemorial, education for some object or other has been practised by mankind. The young savage is taught to hunt, fish, and shoot with persevering assiduity. Every kind of war implies discipline and drill, how­ ever rude. Political life, wherever it exists, inevitably leads to an education fitting men for the treatment of public affairs. Besides these partial ends, religion, in all societies above the lowest, is charged with the general and para­ mount end of training men in the worship and service of the invisible but all-powerful Being or Beings, who are supposed to dispose of human happiness in this world and the next. This has ever rightly been regarded as the most important of all training, because it concerns every one, and incomparably more momentous interests are involved in its efficient carrying out. The culti­ vation of human nature, in some degree or direction, is as old as humanity. But the partiality and imperfection of this cultivation are equally old. The daily acquisition of food occupies the whole life of the savage, almost as com­ pletely as it does the lives of the birds and animals which he snares and kills. With the growth of knowledge and wealth, wider objects engage man’s atten­ tion, and exact a corresponding culture to secure their attainment. But these ends, though wider than those of savage life, are still very narrow, consisting in success in petty warfare with neighbour­ ing States, or in party struggles within the primitive city. Even the worship of the gods is stiffly exclusive and partial, and confined to local or tribal divinities, who are “jealous” in the extreme of any rivals in popular reverence. This imperfection of culture has con­ tinued to modern times, though, with every stride in civilisation, it has been �104 THE SERVICE OF MAN lessened, and replaced by something better and larger. Yet, it is still obvi­ ously local, partial, and imperfect. No­ where yet does the aim exist to produce the best human being possible ; to train all the faculties of the body, the mind, and the heart, with the sole object of making the most of them. Men are still trained for special trades and pro­ fessions, for special countries, and, above all, for special religions. And, in the present low development of the human mind and civilisation, it cannot be other­ wise, or at least, much otherwise. But there can be no doubt that one of the most assured and practical means of improving society is to improve the individual men and women who com­ pose it. This is strongly but vaguely expressed in the cry for education; though one is often tempted to think that none needs education more than the popular clamourer for it. Still, a great advance has been made in the mere recognition that the cultivation of individuals, however imperfect, is a matter of primary importance to the general welfare. Deeper views on the subject will come in time. For the purpose of this essay, we need not regard the subject from this wide and public point of view. We may limit ourselves to the consideration—ample enough—of the change in the theory of human cultivation, likely to follow the substitution of the service of man for the service of God ; and we will do so under the three heads—(i) the body, (2) the mind, and (3) the heart of man. 1. On the first we need not dwell long. Medical science has nearly solved the problem of health. The amount of exercise and nourishment, the kinds and qualities of foods and drinks, the limits of work and relaxation, the salubrity of sites and dwellings and clothing—these and similar topics connected with the health of the body physical are so fairly well understood that anyone with a moderately strong constitution, amenable to good advice, may keep in satisfactory health. Many of the worst diseases have been almost disarmed, though a few, like cancer, are said to be on the increase ; and there is a great set-off in the fact that the very success of medical skill and science has produced serious harm by saving numbers of weak and bad con­ stitutions, which would formerly have perished, but which now survive to pro­ pagate an unhealthy stock—an evil which will probably be diminished or removed by stricter views of marriage and the pro­ creation of children. The paramount importance of health for the adequate discharge of public and private duties can escape no one. It is probable that in a reformed public opinion of the future a breakdown in health, when obviously caused by excess or impru­ dence, or culpable ignorance, will be regarded as a species of bankruptcy and severely judged. A servant of Humanity has’ no right to be unable to perform his duties to her. 2. Neither need we dwell long on the cultivation of the mind, interesting as is the subject, and much as there would be to say about it in another connection. The utility of knowledge is now obvious to everybody, and nearly all departments are fairly well-cultivated, some of them with splendid results. Science now is quite able to take care of itself, and we have no reason to fear that it will not be equal to the task. The great danger is specialism, which cultivates one small segment of the vast circle of knowledge, and remains contentedly ignorant of the rest. Specialism cannot be spared, if only for the reason that he who is not a specialist in some one thing is likely to be a sciolist in all things. But, next to the sciolist, the pure specialist is, perhaps, the least efficient servant of man. 3. I now come to the third, and in­ comparably the most important, of all the forms of human cultivation—the cultivation of the heart and feelings. I have already, in a previous chapter, attempted to show that, as a support of morality, Christian doctrine and practice were inherently defective; inasmuch as that the true end of Christianity was not �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE morality in this world, but salvation in the next. My object must now be to show that a cultivation of human nature on positive and human principles will have a different result; first, because of the different end; secondly, because of the different means and theories adopted with a view to that end. The cultivation of nature, vegetable or animal, since it has become scientific, has proceeded on the assumption of a universal law of causation, on which were based experiment and proof. The agriculturist and the grazier, aided by the chemist, have discovered the most propitious conditions, foods, soils, stocks, etc., for their special objects in view, and after great time and pains they have fairly mastered the problem. The only part of it which they have not mastered is the meteorological part; but in other respects their success has been eminently satisfactory. Even pestilences in the animal and vegetable world are stopped, and prevented from spreading, if not from appearing; as the extirpation of the rinder-pest, the silkworm disease, and perhaps, most remarkable of all, the destruction of locusts in Cyprus, suffi­ ciently show. It was different even in the Augustan age of Rome— “...... alitur vitium, vivitque tegendo, Dum medicas adhibere mantis ad volnera pastor Abnegat, aut meliora deos sedet omina.poscensT1 Epidemic diseases were regarded by Jew and Gentile as special proofs of the anger of the Deity; whom men sought by prayer and sacrifice to propitiate that the plague might be stayed. . “Help us, O Lares ! help us, Lares, help us! And thou, O Marmar, suffer not Fell plague and ruin’s rot Our folk to devastate.”2 In these cases we now look for help to the sanitary inspector or the veterinary surgeon. Now, the scientific cultivation of human nature needs the adoption of the same method and principles as have 1 Verg., Georg., iii. 454. 2 Song of the Arvai Brothers. i°5 been so fruitful of good results in other departments. We must cease to believe in miracle and divine aid ; and, proceed­ ing on the firm ground of cause and effect, not expect to reap except where and when we have ploughed and sown. The theological doctrine of grace, and the metaphysical doctrine of the freedom of the will, are alike fatal to a steady cultivation of human nature from a moral point of view. Both presuppose an unknown factor, whose presence or absence cannot be foreseen, and whose action cannot be measured. “It is here, it is there, it is gone,” and no one can tell why. It at once upsets prevision of the future, and cancels all record of and inference from the past. An authorised expounder1 of Catholic doctrine remarks : “Nothing, absolutely nothing, neither little nor much, can be done without the grace of God. We cannot do a good action, nor produce any good fruit conducive to salvation, without the grace of God.” “ St. Augustine,” remarks Canon Liddon, “ says there is no reason, apart from the grace of God, why the highest saint should not be the worst criminal.”2 In an instant, therefore, a criminal may be­ come a saint, or a saint may become a criminal, according to the good pleasure of God, “ who hath mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth.” If we assume, as we surely may, that the saintly character is marked by rare and precious qualities, we are made to see, on this theory, by what a frail and uncertain tenure they exist. It is hardly necessary to point out that this doctrine must induce an indifference, almost a recklessness, as to the culti­ vation of human nature, so far as the heart and feelings are concerned. We cannot be sure for twenty-four hours together whether we shall belong to the diabolically wicked or the angelically good. The analogy between the theological 1 Power, Catechism, vol. ii., p. 33. 2 “ Oxford Sermons,” VI. �io6 THE SERVICE OF MAN doctrine of grace and the metaphysical tenet of free-will is obvious. They both appeared prominently together in the controversy between Pelagius and St. Augustine. Free-will is a sort of secular correlative of theological grace. It delivers over man, not the arbitrary inspiration of divine grace given or with­ held, but to the arbitrary autocracy of his own power of volition; which can do with him what he pleases, if it pleases. “ According to the doctrine of free-will, there is an ultimate power of choice in the human will, which, how­ ever strongly it may be drawn, or tempted, or attracted to decide one way or another by external appeals or motives, is not ruled and decided by such motives, but by the will itself only.”12 Again : “ While there is life there is hope and there is fear. The most inveterate habits of vice still leave a power of self­ recovery in the man if he will but exert it; the most confirmed habits of virtue still leave the liability to a fall.”3 The close analogy, almost amounting to identity, between the doctrines of free­ will and grace, is here very clearly shown. By encouraging the idea that the most inveterate habits of vice can be reformed by an act of will, the para­ mount importance of habit is masked or even implicitly denied ; that is to say, that one of the most important and widely dominant laws of biology is denied, or the moral nature of man is withdrawn from its dominion. If the most confirmed habits of virtue are no guarantee against a “ fall ” (that means, can be destroyed by an exertion of the wicked will), it is obvious that patient and protracted efforts towards self-disci­ pline and the higher life is so much labour lost. The subjugation of self and evil desires carried on for years may end in a “ fall,” and gratification of our most depraved instincts. And, contrariwise, “inveterate habits of vice ” 1 Mozley, Augustinian Doctrine of Predesti­ nation, p. 217. 2 Ibid , p. 247. are not the serious danger one might suppose, as the power of self-recovery is always present and capable of throwing them off, if the man will but exert it. While there is life there is hope and fear; and up to the last the criminal may become a saint, and the saint a criminal, as St. Augustine said. It is evident that the doctrine of the freedom of the will supposes the phe­ nomena of the mind to be exempt from the laws and conditions which regulate the rest of nature; and the more courageous metaphysicians do not hesi­ tate to make this assumption. “ Can the knowledge of Nature,” asks the late Professor Green, “ be itself a part of Nature, in that sense of Nature in which it is said to be an object of knowledge P”1 It is not easy to see why the subject which cognises the object should be less Nature than the object cognised. The image of an object in the mirror which reflects is as much Nature as the object reflected. Hojyever, it is not necessary for the purpose in hand to make a flight into the fine aether of Kantian meta­ physics. If we consult fact instead of fiction, we shall conclude that moral qualities are, to say the least, as per­ manent and durable as any biological phenomena. The digestive functions, the circulation of the blood, and the secretions of the body are not more periodic and permanent than the passions of the mind. Indeed, the latter are the more lasting and persistent of the two groups. The liver of a miser is more likely to break down in the course of his life than his passion for gold. The muscular heart of the benevolent man may, and often does, fail before the spiritual heart which makes him un­ wearied in doing deeds of mercy. The common sense of mankind has always, when not perverted by the necessities of a theory, recognised the permanence of moral qualities, not only in the indi­ vidual, but in the race— “ Fortes creantur fortibus et bonis ; 1 Prolegomena to Ethics, p. 11. �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE Est in juvencis, est in equis patrum Virtus, neque inbellem feroces Progenerant aquilm columbam.”1 107 not attend the sacraments, religious ser­ vices which, at other times, he would not have neglected for the world. Report, however, said that he and his associates passed their time in alternate scenes of the exercises of religion and debauchery; spending their day in meetings for prayer and pious conversation, and their nights in lewdness and revelling. Some men are of opinion that they could not be equally sincere in both. I am apt to think that they were....... There is no doubt of the profligacy; and I have frequently seen them drowned in tears during the whole of a sacramental Sunday; when, so far as my observation could reach, they could have no rational object to act a part. The Marquis of Lothian of that day, whom I have seen attending the sacrament at Prestonpans with Lord Grange, and whom no man suspected of plots or hypocrisy, was much addicted to debauchery. The natural casuistry of the passions grants dispensations with more facility than the Church of Rome.”1 There are strong rumours that such contradictions between faith and practice were not unknown in Scotland in a more recent past. Now let us take the milder, but not less instructive, case of Dr. Johnson. Few men have had more devout faith in God’s grace, and more firm belief in free-will, than Samuel Johnson. He was, in intention at least, highly conscien­ tious. In practice, as he was the first to admit, he often fell short of his standard of duty. We can hardly imagine more fervent prayers and determined resolves than he made with a view to breaking off bad habits and turning over a new leaf. Yet the success was very small, as we learn from the frequent repentances and renewed resolves published by Boswell, That the two doctrines just referred to, of grace and of free-will, have fre­ quently operated to the injury of morality is proved by examples too numerous to quote. Louis XV., one of the most profligate men in history, was punctilious in his religious exercises ; and, as Carlyle says, used to catechise the inmates of his harem in the Parc aux Cerfs, “that they might retain their orthodoxy.” But the doctrine of grace, which he had no doubt thoroughly grasped, allowed him to feel that he could at any time repent, and that when he did he would be freed from his sins. In one of the finest historical pictures ever drawn, even by Carlyle, we are admitted to the side of the “ sinner’s death-bed,” to see his anxiety for the sacraments, and how he made the amende honorable to God. If it be objected that this is only a sample of Popish superstition, we will take from a sect the most opposed to Catholicism, that of the Scotch Presby­ terians, the case of the famous James Erskine of Grange. Dr. Alexander Carlyle, in his amusing autobiography, speaks as follows of this Protestant worthy. Referring to his father’s inti­ macy with Lord Grange (Dr. Carlyle’s father, like himself, was a minister of the Church of Scotland), and to their frequent meetings for prayer, he says : “After these meetings for private prayer, however, in which they passed several hours before supper, praying alternately, they did not part without wine. Not­ withstanding this intimacy, there were periods of half a year at a time when there was no intercourse between them at all. My father’s conjecture was that at those times Lord Grange was engaged in a course of debauchery at Edinburgh, and interrupted his religious exercises. For in those intervals he not only neglected my father’s company, but absented himself from church, and did “ I have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time, almost, that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I have done nothing........ O God, grant me to 1 Hor. iv. 4. 29. 1 Autobiography of Dr. Alexander Carlyle, p. 13. �THE SERVICE OF MAN io8 resolve aright, and to keep my resolu­ tions, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.”1 The chief faults with which Johnson reproached himself were waste of time, procrastination, and a torpid laziness which made early rising almost an im­ possibility to him. Against these faults he perpetually made resolutions, and prayed fervently for divine help to keep them. He resolved and prayed in vain ; as we know, not only from his own confession, but from abundant other testimony. Boswell is delighted with Johnson’s tenderness of conscience and “ fervent desire of improvement.” It did not occur to Boswell that he had given, in other parts of his work, ample reasons which accounted for Johnson’s failure on this head. Johnson’s habits were wholly incompatible with health of mind or body, and they were peculiarly adverse to the alertness of spirit of which he was always lamenting his deficiency. How could a man get up early who always sat up at night as long as he could find any one to keep him company ? How could a man retain a prompt and clear energy of mind, ready for all demands, who never scrupled to gorge himself to reple­ tion whenever he had an opportunity? “ I never knew,”said Boswell, “any man who relished good eating more than he did. When at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks seem riveted to his plate; nor would he, unless in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite—-which was so fierce, and indulged with such intense­ ness, that while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible.”2 How much of Johnson’s physical suffering and moral deficiencies were owing to his habitual gross feeding could perhaps only be determined by a physician who had carefully examined the patient; but that his obesity and shortness of breath, his low spirits and choleric temper, were largely attributable to his self-indulgence there can hardly be a doubt. If Johnson had been a determinist, and cultivated his nature on rational principles, he would have known that while he retained his usual habits he could not overcome his sloth. A light but nutritious diet, sufficient exercise in the fresh air to induce a pleasant fatigue, frequent cold baths, moderation in all liquors, especially tea, and early hours of going to bed, would probably, in a few months, have enabled him to throw off his lethargy. The doctrine of determinism is now so generally accepted that it will not be needful to dwell upon it at any length here. The cumulative argument in its favour, says Mr. Sidgwick, is so strong as almost to amount to complete proof. But its immense importance for the right cultivation of human nature seems still to be overlooked, even by its most illustrious advocates. Even Mr. Sidg­ wick is of opinion that the decision of the “ metaphysical question at issue in this free-will controversy ”z does not involve any point of general practical importance. I am unable to accept this view. It appears to me to be one of those cases in which right theory is all-important, as guiding to right practice. If we admit that “ From the universal law that, other things equal, the cohesion of psychical states is proportionate to the frequency with which they have followed one another in experience ; it is an inevitable corollary, that all actions whatever must be determined by those psychical connections which experience has generated, either in the life of the individual or in that general antecedent life of which the accumulated results are organised in his constitution,”2 we must further admit that any theory which tends to discredit or underrate “ habit,” 1 Boswell, anno 1764. 2 Boswell, anno 1763. 1 Methods of Ethics, cap. v. 2 Herbert Spencer, Psychology, vol. i., p. 500. �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE tends to make human action uncertain and vacillating, tends therefore to weaken the automatic performance of good actions, which is what the well­ being of society demands. The free­ will theory openly challenges “ habit ” and encourages the belief that the most inveterate habit may be broken by an act of volition. The attention is therefore directed to the wrong side of the prob­ lem. Instead of vigilantly watching against the slow, insidious growth of evil habits, the failure to carry out good resolutions, the frequent indulgence of vicious tastes ; the mind is lulled into a false security by the belief in free-will, imagining himself independent and sovereign, when and while it is being reduced into servitude. The “cohesion of psychical states ” is so established by their frequent succession that it becomes organic. If not absolutely inseparable, their cohesion is so strong that only a violent contrary passion or motive is equal to breaking it. The most hard­ ened lie-a-bed, whom neither duty nor interest can rouse from his slumbers, would promptly sally forth if informed that the house was on fire. It is this fact—viz., that even an inveterate habit may be broken by a gust of passion, or a permanent mood of profound emotion, which has given a semblance of ration­ ality to the doctrine of free-will. No determinist ignores or underrates it. A passion of pure love has often saved a man from a swarm of minor vices. All the famous and sudden religious con­ versions from evil-living to righteousness may be traced to the same principle. Ardent love, gratitude, and veneration for Christ, when kindled, are able to snap the chains of habit, and sometimes to prevent their being welded together again. But it is rash, not to say reckless, to trust to a random cyclone of the nobler passions to save us from our sins. It is of the nature of cyclones to be violent, but of short duration. They may never come; they are apt to be transitory. And then the old cohesion of psychical states reappears, the vicious 109 habit returns, probably more virulent and domineering for its temporary exile, and the last state of that man is worse than the first. It is obvious, as already remarked, that the free-will doctrine turns the atten­ tion away from the essential and real side of moral cultivation, and directs it to an unreal side. It resembles Sir Kenelm Digby’s famous sympathetic powder for the cure of wounds. Digby professed that he would be very sorry not to do his uttermost to make it clear how the powder “(which they commonly call the powder of sympathy) doth, naturally and without any magick, cure wounds without touching them, yea, without seeing of the patient and he set forth how the cure “ is performed by applying the remedy to the blade of a sword which has wounded a body; so the sword be not too much heated by the fire; for that will make all the spirits of the blood to evaporate ; and conse­ quently the sword will contribute but little to the cure. Now, the reason why the sword may be dressed in order to the cure is, because the subtile spirits of the blood penetrate the substance of the blade, as far as it went into the body of the wounded party; and there keep their residence, unless the fire, as I said before, chase them away.” Now, the sympathetic powder is hardly more irrational in surgery than the free-will doctrine is in morals. In both cases the attention is directed to the wrong object, and diverted from the right one. While Digby was applying his remedy to the blade of a sword which had caused a wound, he was giving but little care and attention to the wound itself. Indeed, he says that neither the wound nor even the patient need ever be seen. There would have been little hope of the triumphs of modern surgery if this method of treating wounds had pre­ vailed. The real phenomena needing elucidation would not have been studied, and a fiction would have engrossed the attention of the faculty. The believers in free-will have studied ethics and the �I IO THE SERVICE OF MAN cultivation of human nature, as Digby to persons who have no power to distin­ studied surgery and the cure of wounds. guish one note from another, nor teach Their doctrine is the correlative of the painting to the colour blind, nor mathe­ sympathetic powder applied to the blade matics to those arrested by the Ass’s of the sword. The real facts which it Bridge. In other words, cultivation is behoved them to investigate they have only rationally applied where there is original quality capable of receiving it. neglected. Certainly, the moral nature of man Experience shows that moral or im­ moral action depends upon the previous does not vary less widely than the other training and character of the mind? as parts of his nature. There are men much as healthy or morbid secretions whose quality is to manifest, from their depend upon the previous habits and earliest years, a bias to vicious and malig­ constitution of the body. A man with nant crime; who have no good instincts a criminal nature and education, under on which a moral teacher can work; who given circumstances of temptation, can pursue their own selfish gratification at no more help committing crime than he any cost to others. There are also men could help having a headache under whose bias is in the contrary direction; certain conditions of brain and stomach. who, without teaching, or in spite of evil Both the crime and the headache result. teaching, show a generous, upright, un­ from a series of antecedent causes cul­ selfish spirit in all their dealings. And minating in these effects. An unhealthy these differences are congenital: such mode of living and, perhaps, a bad con­ persons differ as much as a cachectic stitution lead inevitably to the one; an constitution differs from a healthy one. evil training and, perhaps, a vicious Without saying that in the one case, character combined lead to the other. therapeutics, and in the other case, In neither case can the Will operate moral training, would be quite without directly to suppress either crime or head­ effect, we may be sure that neither thera­ ache at the moment. The physical peutics nor moral training will ever turn ailment may be removed or mitigated by the bad into the good, the evil constitu­ drugs or reformed habits of living, and tion or character into the vigorous and the moral evil also may be diminished or moral. Before drawing our practical deduc­ removed by a complete change in the ethical surroundings of the patient. But tions from these facts, let us consider neither result is certain; and depends some of these implications. Nature knows nothing of merit or on numerous circumstances—the age of the individual, the inveteracy of the desert, but only of qualities : “Alike to her the better, the worse, disease, the constitution or character in The glowing angel, the outcast corse.” either case. All. cultivation presupposes, in the But for the well-being of man and society vegetable, animal, or human subject, certain qualities in things, animals, and original qualities which justify even an men are precious in the extreme, as cer­ attempt to improve them. There are tain other qualities are pernicious. We soils which no farmer in his senses cultivate the one and discard, or even, would think of ploughing, manuring, and if possible, suppress, the other. No sowing. There are kinds of vegetables qualities are so valuable to men in society and stocks of cattle which are recognised as the moral qualities in each other’s as unfit for profitable culture. They are hearts. On nothing does happiness so left alone, either to die out or to survive much depend, both immediately and in a state of nature. In the same way remotely, as upon the good or bad in­ with human. qualities ; some original stincts of the fellow-men by whom we quality is needed to begin upon. We do are surrounded. Within certain and not give an elaborate musical education not very narrow limits these instincts �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE admit of cultivation; but unless origi­ nally present in some degree they cannot be cultivated. Their presence or absence in the individual is no merit or fault of his. Nothing is more certain than that no one makes his own character. That is done for him by his parents and an­ cestors. The hero was born with his noble and fearless heart; the saint came into the world with his spontaneous apti­ tude for good works and lofty feeling; and the moral monster, the cowardly, selfish, unscrupulous criminal, was born with his evil passions inherited from pro­ genitors, near or remote. No merit or demerit attaches to the saint or the sinner in the metaphysical and mystic sense of the word. Their good or evil qualities were none of their making. A man in­ herits his brain as much as he inherits his estate. The strong nature, the vivid imagination, the tender conscience, the firm will, all come by inheritance, as much as money in the funds, or a noble demesne of broad acres. The theo­ logical doctrine that there is no such thing as merit in the sight of God, that all we have has been received as a free gift, admits of a plainly scientific ex­ pression, as a matter of fact.1 It will perhaps be said that this view does away with moral responsibility; that those who hold it cannot con­ sistently blame any crime or resent any injury; that we should not on this hypothesis reproach a garrotter who half murders us ; he is a machine, not a man 1 On this point St. Thomas uses almost Posi­ tivist expressions :— “ Et ideo meritum hominis apud Deum esse non potest nisi secundum prmsuppositionem divines ordinationis ; ita scilicet ut id homo consequatur a Deo per suam opcrationem, quasi mercedem, ad quod Deus ei virtutem operandi deputavit, sicut etiam res naturales hoc conseqietintur per proprios motus et operationes, ad quod a Deo sunt ordinal ee ; differenter tamen, quia creatura rationalis seipsum movet ad agendum per liberum arbitrium, unde sua actio habet rationem meriti; quod non est in aliis creaturis.”—Summa Theologica, Prima Secundre, Quaestio cxiv. art. prim. But for the arbitrary exception in favour of free-will, this view would coincide with mine. hi with free-will, capable of doing and for­ bearing according to the moral law. It is no more rational to blame him than it would be to blame a runaway locomotive which knocks you down, and mangles or kills you. To which the answer is, that the sooner the idea of moral responsibility is got rid of, the better it will be for society and moral education. The sooner it is perceived that bad men will be bad, do what we will—though, of course, they may be made less bad—the sooner shall we come to the conclusion that the -welfare of society demands the suppression or elimination of bad men, and the careful cultivation of the good only. This is what we do in every other department. We do not cultivate curs and screws and low breeds of cattle. On the contrary, we keep them down as much as we can. What do we gain by this fine language as to moral responsibility ? The right to blame, and so forth. Bad men are not touched by it. The bad man has no conscience; he acts after his malignant nature. The fear of sharp punishment may deter him from evil-doing, and quell his selfish appetites; but he will not be converted to virtue by our telling him he has moral responsibility, that he is a free agent to choose good or evil, and that he ought to choose the good. His mind is made up to choose the bad. But society, knowing its own interests, has a right to exclude him from its fellowship; not only to prevent and punish his evil actions, but to suppress him in some effectual way, and, above all, prevent his leaving a posterity as wicked as himself.1 Society requires good in1 So Aristotle {Ethics, lib. x. c. 9) says that some think that legislators ought “ direldovo-t. oe ral dcfjveffrtpois odcri KoXdcreis re Kai n/auplas e7riTL0^ai, tovs 8’ dviarovs 6'Xws e^vpi^ccv.” Mr. Herbert Spencer, arguing against the modern tendency to promote the “survival of the unfittest,” remarks : “ It rarely happens that the amount of evil caused by fostering the vicious and good-for-nothing can be estimated. But in America, at a meeting of the States Charities Aid Association, held on Dec. 18th, 1874, a startling instance was given in detail by Dr. Harris, It �112 THE SERVICE OF MAN stincts and good actions. It does not want even alternate sins and repentance; it wants performance. The soldier who deserts in presence of the enemy is deservedly shot. In civil life there are forms of criminality which are worse than desertions ; they are open hostilities to the best interests of humanity. Nothing is gained by disguising the fact that there is no remedy for a bad heart, and no substitute for a good one. Only on good, unselfish instincts can a trustworthy morality repose. “ There are many cases,” says Mr. Bain, “ where a man’s social obedience, the fulfilment of his bargains, his justice, veracity, respect to other men’s rights, costs him a sacri­ fice with no return, while the omission leads to penalty. Simple prudence would at such a moment suggest the criminal course.”1 And Mr. Herbert Spencer says : “The true moral deterrent from murder is not constituted by a representation of hanging as a conse­ quence, or by a representation of tortures in Hell as a consequence, or by a repre­ sentation of the horror and hatred excited in fellow-men; but by a representation of the necessary natural results—the inflic­ tion of death-agony on the victim, the destruction of all his possibilities of happiness, the entailed sufferings to his belongings. Neither the thought of im­ prisonment, nor of divine anger, nor of social disgrace, is that which constitutes the moral check on theft; but the thought of injury to the person robbed, joined with a vague consciousness of the was furnished by a county on the Upper Hudson, remarkable for the ratio of crime and poverty to population. Generations ago there had existed a certain ‘ gutter-child,’ as she would here be called, known as ‘ Margaret,’ who proved to be the prolific mother of a prolific race. Besides great numbers of idiots, imbeciles, drunkards, lunatics, paupers, and prostitutes, ‘ the county records show two hundred of her descendants who have been criminals.’ Was it kindness or cruelty which, generation after generation, enabled them to multiply and become an increas­ ing curse to the society around them ?” [Man versus the State, p. 69). 1 The Emotions and the Will, chap, x., p. 530; i§59- general evils caused by disregard of pro­ prietary rights. Those who reprobate the adulterer on moral grounds have their minds filled, not with ideas of an action for damages, or of future punish­ ment following the breach of a com­ mandment, or of loss of reputation ; but they are occupied with ideas of unhappi­ ness entailed on the aggrieved wife or husband, the damaged lives of children, and the diffused mischiefs which go along with disregard of the marriage tie. Conversely, the man who is moved by a moral feeling to help another in difficulty does not picture to himself any reward here or hereafter, but pictures only the betterconditionheis trying to bringabout. One who is morally prompted to fight against a social evil has neither material benefit nor popular applause before his mind, but only the mischiefs he seeks to remove, and the increased well-being which will follow their removal.”1 Nothing can be more clearly put. The feeling, sympathetic, generous heart, which recognises the rights and claims of others, which is pained by their suffering and rejoices in their joy, is declared to be the only trustworthy source of that social morality on which general well­ being depends. In this respect moral conduct, regarded as an art, as it is indeed incomparably the finest of the fine arts, does not differ from its inferior congeners. No one expects fine pictures or statues from persons devoid of all Aesthetic taste, nor oratorios and operas from those deficient in musical ear. If the interest of society requires a due pro­ portion of altruistic sentiment in each of its members, we can only expect them in those individuals who are correspond­ ingly organised. While all the emotions can be cultivated, none can be implanted or directly infused. In this, as in other cases, we can only cultivate the good sorts, the good stock, and eliminate and discourage, as far as possible, the bad. This view will very probably be regarded by some as giving up the cause 1 Data of Ethies, pp. 120, 121. �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE of morality altogether. If we cannot preach the categorical imperative of right action to every creature, and assume and expect that every one is capable of per­ forming it, if he chooses to exert his free-will, our preaching is supposed to be vain ; an insincere make-believe, itself immoral. This is very probable ; and the foolishness of preaching, as often practised, is perhaps only too evident. But it may be remarked that the cause of music is not given up because a master counsels a pupil without an ear for music to cease attempting to sing. We may preach morality as we choose, but we shall only be successful with the apt scholars, those who have a founda­ tion of good instincts on which to work. It is, no doubt, much simpler to assume that all are equally competent; and that, if they do not receive our teaching, it is not because they cannot, but because they will not. Then we arrogate a right to upbraid them, to punish them for their wicked will. They can, if they choose, be quite virtuous and moral. It is an obvious view, recommended by a blunt straightforwardness gratifying to many minds which are disposed to resent and even deny the complexity of nature. The determinist is not less but more resolute in teaching morality than his free-will opponent. But he demands pupils who can learn. What shall be done with those who cannot learn belongs to another branch of inquiry, and con­ cerns politics rather than morals. But much is gained by discarding the hope of impossibilities, of ceasing to expect grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles. The extirpation of thorns and thistles, in the literal or metaphorical sense, has its diffi­ culties ; which we have no ground, how­ ever, to regard as insuperable. The object to be obtained is good men with good instincts ; not the establishment of a metaphysical theory that all men may be good if they would only choose. So little do we need free-will and deliberate choice between good and evil that we want a prompt, unreflecting bias towards good. The option between virtue and 113 vice cannot be left an open question. As we see good dogs chasser de race, so we need citizens whose leanings are to virtue’s side. And we are likely to get them in proportion as we recognise that good men, like poets, are born, not made, and only in a minor degree the product of training ; albeit that training, in its own sphere, is of paramount importance. But training is not often entirely over­ looked in practice, even by the partisans of the doctrine of free-will—a fact more creditable to their common sense than their logic. The centre of the problem lies in the question, how can a deter­ minist cultivate virtue or good impulses, seeing that by his principles he cannot choose his desires ? How can he culti­ vate a sense of duty, if duty depends on altruistic sentiments, of which he is perhaps devoid ? It would be regarded as a truism rather than a paradox to say that a man cannot cultivate athletics without muscles. Some amount of muscle must be present on which to begin a course of muscular development. In the same way, some amount of congenital altruism—the tap­ root of social morality—must be present, or the cultivation of good impulses, moral sentiments, or the sense of duty, cannot be even attempted. We should be in­ formed what manner of man the deter­ minist is who is asked how he can culti­ vate virtue on his principles. If he is a base-hearted man, but sufficiently versed in psychology to grasp the full import of the question, he would answer that it was obviously impossible. He would ac­ knowledge a conscious absence of good impulses, and that his only principle of action was the gratification of self. If the determinist, on the other hand, were a man of generous nature, full of meek­ ness, courage, and love, he would reply that cultivation, or the satisfaction of those impulses, was the greatest joy he knew; that though often, through slack­ ness of will, infirmity, and selfishness, he failed in his duty (of which he was only too conscious), yet he never felt inward 1 �114 THE SERVICE OF MAN peace, except when cultivating the garden of his soul, following the passionate ideal of his heart in all benign works for others, in all purifying discipline of the spirit within him. Both these men would answer truly; and the successful cultiva­ tion of human nature demands that we should bear in mind the answers of both. The abstract science of morals needs completing and correcting for the culti­ vation of human nature by empirical observation of the peculiarities of indivi­ dual men. “Duty” and “debt” are the same word differently written, and both mean that which is “owed.” I “ought” is the preterite of I “ owe.” The French “ devoir ” is applied to pecuniary debt and moral duty. In Greek o^etXco and show the same association of ideas. Now, what do we mean by a sense of duty, except a recognition of the claims of others, of neighbour, family, society, or God ? In no respect do men differ more than in this sense of duty, because in no respect are men more unlike than in their endowment of egoistic and altruistic impulses. In some persons all sense of the claims of others seems left out from the first. They never seem to regard themselves as owing anything to anybody; but, contrariwise, they consider others always as owing them a great deal. Even borrowed money they repay with pain and regret, and often require the threat or the action of the law to bring them to repayment. This type of character is humorously exemplified in the alleged remark of a spendthrift, who said of a friend less hardened than himself: “ He wasted his money in paying his debts the use of money being only excusable, it would appear, when no credit was to be obtained. On the other hand, we have natures who not only are prompt in acknowledging claims upon them, who would fast and starve rather than with­ hold payment when due, but who perceive debts and duties which neither society nor individuals exact from them; who willingly offend the world, and, with open eyes, face its anger and resentment, so they may render it a service which no other is ready to offer. The saints, martyrs, and heroes have been of this type. Resistance to passion or strong temptation can only be rationally ex­ pected from a mind which combines a habit of postponing self-gratification to the interests and welfare of others, with an ample endowment of generous and benevolent impulses. The wave of egoistic passion is met by a counter-wave of altruistic emotion, and according to the character and training one or the other prevails. The characteristic feeling of remorse for breach of duty, or gross­ gratification of selfish desire, is evidence of this. Genuine remorse, contrition as distinguished from attrition, always arises from a pain of the altruistic feelings, at having returned evil for good) for having injured a loving heart which deserved different treatment at our hands. Remorse is the note of tender and passionate, but ill-governed, natures. There is no anguish like it; but it is an anguish of which the cold and the selfish are incapable. So little does it fear or wish to evade punish­ ment that it seeks it and implores it. The grief over our own hard-heartedness is too acute to be assuaged except by sacrifice and penance ; and only in bitter expiation is a slight relief derived for transgression. In religious minds the reason often gives way when they have been made conscious that they have sinned against and been ungrateful to Christ their Lord, who for them hung upon the tree, was pierced with wounds, reviled, buffeted, and spat upon. Like St. Peter, when they think thereon they weep. In the naturally generous and tender-hearted it soon appears and developes with the added years. Educa­ tion can do much to aid or check its growth. The selfishness of children can be cultivated to any extent. A habit of regard for others may likewise be nurtured. The proverbial selfishness of princes largely depends on this fact. Recognition of the “ claims ” of others, arising from a sympathetic nature, is the �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE root of duty, but by no means the fullgrown tree. The size to which the tree will grow depends upon the mental power, upon the grasp of ideas, which reveals an almost infinite variety of “ claimants.” A kind heart coupled with • a narrow mind cannot conceive the higher forms of duty to the State, to humanity, to unpopular causes. Culture and mental force combined regulate the quality of the duty paid. The difference between abject superstition and lofty piety depends on the intellect, not on the heart of the worshipper. In all societies, even the most savage, some duties are inculcated on the young by parents and elders; and certain acts are forbidden or punished, others are applauded and rewarded. The public opinion of society carries on the process. The teaching in childhood, youth, and manhood is assimilated according to the quality of the learner. The meek, the modest, the kindly, receive in loving trust the word of their elders. They are told they ought to do Z/zA, that they ought not to do that, and they accept the obligation without hesitation or scruple. The mala frohibita become to them mala in se, and an infraction of the rule laid down appears to them monstrous and profane. In Christian countries duty to God is naturally much insisted on; and if it does not appear to be always attended with the desired success, the reason is not only in the hardness of men’s hearts, but also in the intel­ lectual difficulties involved in theism. But whether the paramount duty be paid to God, to the State, to humanity, to great ideas, or any thing or being beyond self, the germ of it always lies in the unselfish readiness to pay a debt, supposed to be owing to another or others. And it often happens that the supposition is wholly false; that the debt is not owed; that it is imaginary, not real. But the sense of obligation is not concerned with the matter of a given duty, but only with the form. Conscience alone is a deceitful guide; like justice, it is blind ; it will do evil as i IS readily as good. Its one pre-occupation is to go out of self and pay its debt, duty, reverence, to object, thing, or being whom it wishes to serve. And this is so true that the sense of duty in its intense forms is not content with simple disregard of self; it insists on hostility to self, on self-mutilation, mortification;., as in the severer forms of asceticism. Passion is by no means the worst: enemy to duty; as a strong sense of duty is itself a passion. The passionate ■ natures can often become the most bound by it: witness St. Augustine. The cold heart is the undutiful heart, the heart of stone, which loves neither God nor man. New duties. The man who recognises new duties above those he has been taught to observe; who sees, beyond the circle of conventional obligation, the. dim forms of new claimants on his heart and service, is a moral inventor, am enlarger of human life. Those who sawthe claims of the slave were such ; thosewho see the claims of animals are the same. How many more such have still to be seen I Reward of virtue. The highest con­ science has ever felt that the expectation of reward for virtue was unjustified, and almost incompatible with the idea of virtue: “Not unto us, not unto us.” “ We are unprofitable servants ; we havedone that which was our duty to do.” These and similar utterances are the natural and wholesome expressions of the devout heart. And the instinct isright which inspires them. The moment we consider duty as a debt which we owe, we feel it does not admit of reward. Is a man to be paid for paying his debts ? How does this view of duty account for resistance to strong temptation ? The moment we recognise that we can be in the position of owing something to some one person, cause, or idea, it matters not what form the payment may take ; from coin of the realm up to giving away one’s life, it is all one; meeting an obligation which we have recognised we are under. How we came by the sense of this or that particular obligation �116 THE SERVICE OF MAN is immaterial. It may come through many channels; religion, public opinion, esprit de corps, or what not. Its fulness and intensity depend far more on the constitution of our minds than on any external influence and teaching. If we are wholly selfish, no teaching will per­ suade us; if we are generous, loving, and heroic, we move towards self-sacrifice by a natural gravitation. And the point to be especially noticed by those who make virtue to consist in the choice of the better part, after a conflict of motives, is that the greater the virtue the less there is of conscious self-sacrifice. The egoist who will not sacrifice the meanest of his own pleasures or passions for the greatest need of others, and the hero who gives his life for the “sheep,” are the opposite poles of humanity. And so little true is it that virtue only exists after it has gained a victory over base temptation, that the very presence or possibility of temptation stains its purity. In ordinary, civilised life this is so. 'What should we think of a friend or acquaintance who we knew passed his time in hard struggles to conquer the sins forbidden in the sixth, seventh, and eighth commandments? Yet, according to the doctrine of some moralists, the man who dines with us, and has not had a temptation to steal our spoons, and overcome it, is not virtuous; if he has not lusted after the women of our house­ hold and subdued his impurity, he is not chaste; if he has not been touched by an impulse to murder us, finally put down, he is not a moral person. Now, as regards resisting temptation, it is obvious that, in proportion as we are tempted to the commission of selfish sin, our character, and, in a minor degree, our education, are at fault. We have started with an overplus of egoistic senti­ ment, or we have had, by ill-education, the egoistic sentiment unduly cultivated. We shall behave under temptations according to our character. The doc­ trines we hold will have little weight in the final result, though they will have some. If we experience strong prompt­ ings to murder, rape, or theft, the chances are, whether we believe in Hell or Utilitarianism, we shall gratify our passions. If the altruistic element in us is fairly represented, we shall hesitate, or alternately fall into sin and repentance. If self has been “annulled,” we shall pass by the temptations with more or less complete unconsciousness.1 Moralists have been at great pains to show that through virtue lay the only road to final and complete happiness; that, on the other hand, crime and sin inevitably led to pain and misery. It was feared that, if any doubt were allowed to rest on the fact that virtue was its own reward, sensible people would refuse so obviously bad a bargain. As Mr. Leslie Stephen eloquently says : “ Here we come to one of the multiform and profound problems which has tor­ tured men in all ages. Virtue—no one denies it—does good to somebody, but how often to the agent? A belief in justice, as regulating the universe, has been held to imply (I do not ask whether rightly held) that happiness should somehow go along with virtue. To give up the belief in such a supreme regula­ tion seemed, again, to be an admission that virtue was folly. Yet how can this doctrine be reconciled to the plainest facts of experience ? The lightning strikes the good and the bad; the hero dies in the ruin of his cause; the highest self-denial is repaid by the blackest ingratitude; the keenest sympathy with our fellows implies the greatest liability to suffering; the cold, the sensual, and the systematically selfish often seem to have the pleasantest lots in life. Great men in despair have pronounced virtue to be but a name; philosophers have. evaded the difficulty by a verbal denial of the plainest truths ; theologians have tried to console their disciples by con­ structing ideal worlds, which have served 1 So again St. Thomas: “ Magis est non posse peccare quam non peccare. Theologies, Prima Secundre, Qurestio cxiv. art. prim. �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE 117 for little more than a recognition of the unsatisfactory state of the actual world. The problem so often attacked will per­ haps be solved when we know the origin of evil. Meanwhile we have only to consider in what way it is related to ethical theories.”1 This suggestive passage shows very plainly how imperfectly the older specu­ lators grasped the problem with which they had to deal. If virtue depend on a number of good instincts or qualities in the agent’s mind or heart—benevolence, sympathy, courage, and resolution—it would seem obvious that no one could be benefited by these precious endow­ ments more than the fortunate owner of them himself. Who derives so much enjoyment from a fine ear for music as the musician who has one ? Who profits by an exquisite sense of colour so much as the artist whom land, sea, and cloud keep in an ecstasy of delight? Much more, would one say, must the generous and passionate emotions of the heart supply an inward fountain of happiness to the richly endowed natures which possess them. To ask if virtue answers, or “ pays,” is like asking if fine health and bodily strength pay. Probably no one would be without them if he could help it. And yet there can be no doubt that great strength and fine health often lead their possessor into pain, and even death, by tempting him to overtax his powers. It may be said of all the higher qualities and gifts, that under certain conditions they are capable of causing as much pain as pleasure to their owners ; but these owners do not wish, therefore, to be rid of them. The musician who is tortured by an organ out of tune would never think of purchasing peace by the loss or destruction of his musical ear. It is the same with regard to Friendship and Love. Their betrayal probably produces anguish as keen as any known to the human heart. But no one capable of either would ever regret his capacity for love and friendship. Those who doubt their value, or, with Napoleon, hold that they are “ foolish infatuations,” are out of court, as they have no personal knowledge of qualities they despise. We need not to be told what manner of man he was who declared that the secret of happiness consisted in a good digestion and a bad heart. And the querist, “Why should I do anything for posterity, seeing that posterity never did anything for me ?” receives even now this answer from society, and will receive it with greater emphasis in the future: “ From you, sir, we expect nothing; but you may expect that your shameless con­ fession of selfishness will not go un­ punished.” The “unsatisfactory state of the actual world,” as Mr. Stephen says, was no doubt a great hindrance in former times to a recognition of the coercive power for good which society can bring to bear on the selfish and the wicked. But the Christian scheme of rewards and punishments also contributed to the con­ viction that only by fear of retribution could men be deterred from evil, and by the hope of recompense be bribed to/7 doing good. A man who did not believe in hell, it was thought, even by good men, had no inducement to practise any virtue or refrain from any vice. Dr. Johnson said he would not believe that Hume’s apparent equanimity when dying, was sincere, because, on his (Hume’s) principles, he had no motive to speak the truth. Dr. Young, in his Night Thoughts, gave utterance probably to the common sentiment, crude and revolting as it sounds :— 1 Leslie Stephen, Science of Ethics, p. 398. 1 Seventh Night, 1169-1182. “ ‘ Has Virtue charms ?’ I grant her heavenlyfair ; But if unportioned, all will Interest wed. ***** A Deity believed will nought avail; Rewards and punishments make God adored •, And hopes and fears give Conscience all her power. ***** Who tells me he denies his soul immortal, Whate’er his boast, has told me he’s a knave. His duty ’ tis to love himself alone ; Nor care though mankind perish, if he smiles.”1 �Ii8 THE SERVICE OF MAN only consider the agent, without reference The line between “portioned virtue” and “ interest ” does not appear here to to the reaction of society upon him, it is be very clearly drawn, and virtue, it is obvious that no one course of conduct intimated, can only be chosen for a valu­ can be assumed a priori as certain or able consideration. But we must admit likely in itself to produce happiness. all the same that in this respect the theo­ Virtue may, and probably will, bring logians had the best of the argument, happiness to the virtuous man ; but to till the conception of society as an the criminal and the selfish, virtue will organism had arisen in speculation, with be probably the most distasteful or even the momentous consequences which that painful thing in their experience, while involves. The health of an organism vice will give them unmitigated pleasure. depends on the health and efficiency of This view, as Mr. Stephen says, “is calcu­ its parts; and the conduct and morals of lated to shock many respectable people”; the individual are now seen to be no but that is not a sufficient reason for longer the private concern of himself rejecting it if it be otherwise supported. Now, what is a general feature common only, but very much also of the society of which he is a member. His vice to all forms of happiness, whether injures and his virtue benefits the body vicious or virtuous ? Who are the people , politic, as far as either influence extends. who visibly enjoy themselves; who are And this is now so well seen that per­ never or rarely at a loss as to what they haps the danger is, as Mr. Mill feared, shall do with their time ? Is it not those that society and public opinion are tend­ persons who have one or more tastes, ing to be too coercive and despotic, to . inclinations, or passions, so strongly the injury of that liberty and individuality marked that they are always ready or - -which are needed for full and vigorous ever thirsting for their gratification, which well-being. We may certainly venture to never comes amiss ? Even the most say this much, that society is now able sensual and repellent vices may so fill a to make knaves, whether they believe mind with intense relish and pleasure their souls to be immortal or not, feel that the sensualist is conscious of nothing that crime is connected with misery but one long draught of voluptuous enjoy­ rather than happiness, and that virtue, ment. Satiety may no doubt be rapidly perhaps not of the highest, but yet of a produced, and health ruined by excess; fairly high standard, tends directly to the and then the sensualist has a bad time of it; but that is because he has been agent’s own comfort and peace of mind. Now, as touching the problem which deprived of his pleasures, and he has Mr. Stephen says has tortured mankind nothing to fall back on when his vices for ages, the connection between virtue have left him. But that fact does not and happiness, its solution would seem invalidate the statement just made, that to require a little more precising of what a passionate pursuit of some one thing, is meant by happiness than is customary whatever its character, is the primary in ethical discussions. Obviously, happi­ condition of that glow of pleasurable ness varies as much as men vary; and feeling which we call happiness. The what constitutes the happiness of one gambler sitting down to the card-table, man makes the misery of another. The the gourmand to his dinner, the book­ healthy and the strong have different collector buying choice and rare editions, sources of happiness from the sickly and the artist creating types of beauty, the the weak. The same man at different man of science working out momentous periods of life has very different forms problems, the philanthropist seeking and of happiness. In other words, happiness relieving the wretched, though all enjoying is a subjective phenomenon, depending very different kinds of happiness, have upon the conditions and character of this factor in common—that they are the individual. This being so, if we pursuing with keen appetite the object �ON THE CULTIVATION OF HUMAN NATURE they desire. They are free from the aching languor of ennui; they escape the hopeless and helpless nausea of the blase mind, which is impotent even to desire. Strong desires or passions, capable of frequent and lasting gratifica­ tion, are the only materials of happiness. We have next to notice that the grati­ fication of all the passions is more or less attended with pain. Indeed, it would seem that all intense pleasures need to be tipped with a sharp point of pain to give them their full zest. The fatigue and danger of most manly sports constitute a large portion of their attrac­ tiveness. As, gamblers mostly end by losing all their money, their vice must give them more pain than pleasure ; but the fact does not deter them from gratifying it. The pains of the drunkard, of the opium eater, the gourmand, are notorious, but are not often alone suffi­ cient to deter from indulgence in their respective vices. And to this law the higher and nobler passions offer no exception. The ambitious man, say a Napoleon, is always exposed to bitter disappointment and mishaps. The agony of a few nights at Fontainebleau, just before his abdication, had so changed Napoleon’s countenance that his inti­ mates were shocked by it. Yet the experience was thrown away upon him, and he was ready to recommence the game of ambition, as soon as opportunity offered, by his escape from Elba. Even the peaceful pursuits of literature and science have their acute crises of vexation and frustrated hope. Hume, the most even-tempered of men, was so mortified by the failure of the first volume of his history that he would have gone abroad, changed his name, and renounced author­ ship, had not war broken out between England and France. And, to complete the survey, it must be added, that not even the passionate pursuit of holiness itself is without occasional sharp pain ; in proof of which it is sufficient to cite the “Acta Sanctorum,”passim. A passion for virtue, therefore, is not found to be at any disadvantage, as 119 compared with other passions, in the occasional pain which its gratification involves. If “il faut souffrir pour etre belle,” it is also true, “ il faut souffrir pour etre bon ”; and it is difficult to see what is gained by attempting to disguise the fact. Moralists have been so set upon edification that they have been over-anxious to persuade men of the desirability of virtue, by expatiating on the sweetness of its pleasures; that virtuous people had an ample quid pro quo for their virtue. And so they have at times, and in one sense always; but they also have dark and bitter moments in which they are ready to faint; doubts within and dangers without, yea, even death itself in isolated desolation, when “ all ” forsake them and flee ; w’hen the hero has nothing to turn to but his own heroic heart. Individuals, if left to themselves, will follow “their own pecu­ liar bent” in their choice of pleasures, whether they be virtuous or vicious, sel­ fish or self-denying, voluptuous or ascetic. But there can be no doubt which class society, in its own interests, will prefer that its members should choose—viz., the virtuous, the self-denying, and ascetic. Indeed, the most depraved and selfish of men, whatever his own practice, will wish his neighbours to be virtuous. Though he may be unjust and cruel to others, he will resent injustice and cruelty to him­ self; though a libertine himself, he will probably insist on chastity in his wife, wfith much emphasis. Thus even the bad are interested on the side of virtue, as far as the conduct of others is con­ cerned. It only needs a little more improvement in society for this to be generally recognised, as it is already par­ tially recognised, for the disfavour of public opinion to be sharply shown to selfish pursuits and passions, and a steady, persistent encouragement of the unselfish and social enjoyments of civic life and duty. A love of good may be cultivated to almost any extent where the original foundation of an altruistic nature exists. A passionate ideal of excellence can so fill the mind that no �120 THE SERVICE OF MAN pleasure is felt in anything but in efforts to realise it. “ The susceptibility to ideal inflammation is a peculiarity of our nature, varying with constitutions, and affected by various circumstances.”1 All the desires and passions in characters of 1 Bain, The Emotions and the Will, p. 49^- normal vigour can, in the proper con­ ditions, be thus inflamed,, as they can also be starved by systematic discourage­ ment. An ideal society would be one in which an ideal education habitually stimulated and inflamed the good pas­ sions, while it starved and discouraged the bad. No. io of the R. P. A. Cheap Reprints will be LECTURES AND ESSAYS {selected), by Professor Tyndall, with Biographical Sketch of the Author. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; 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> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The service of man : an essay towards the religion of the future Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: xxvii, 234 p. ; 20 cm. Notes: Includes bibliographical references. Annotations in pencil. Inscription in pencil on t.p. following title: as demonstrated by C.J. [i.e. Campbell Jenkins?] to E.S. 1907. First published 1887. Inscription in pencil on leaf following front flyleaf: Campbell Jenkins, United University Club, Suffolk St., Pall Mall, London. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Morison, James Cotter, 1832-1888 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1892 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., Ltd. Subject The topic of the resource Religion Social problems Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <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 (The service of man : an essay towards the religion of the future), 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> Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context N495 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English NSS Positivism Rationalism Religion Social Problems https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/48df4c8f4c813591e2a2e98ffb46dbfb.pdf?Expires=1784764800&Signature=dedBEYSTyewLAP3kR6SwGCRBAyLHrJSO2QNsqtCg0wGOl0I7COv8g1dQwJ-UgUixCCsz5-VEPY3dU8GfuRTiMWMOXIFb7QCIm6kR-k6zEHoPFae-9aIZYcwf07FVizmy3gG5KDOEgAiINICJ0iz%7E7CWB0I5d%7EedKeHKIowogm%7EFKLfQOHsszFlQXhtn8nojIYLO8HnB6R3R9VLumbqxzf6akFHn17VP1pra9B0zhoV0rEokgrT3-yU23-DfiS3X9Ia6ejrYLmPdGV4Vh1ZQCIoXpFBQU7bdAUK0YH9HA%7EJ2Jf80BsgMJRPJumKsh9DPZvgLdSK7Q1n-jjfhqpRHAdQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM ebbdb683ad95ec5c09e93bbe9043cd53 PDF Text Text IMPROVED DWELLINGS FOR THE INDUSTRIAL CLASSES. (Brounb JJlan anb Cilcbation OF LANGBOURN BUILDINGS, MARK STREET, PAUL STREET, FINSBURY SQUARE, DESIGNED AND ERECTED FOR MR. ALDERMAN WATERLOW BY MR. MATTHEW ALLEN: WITH DESCRIPTIVE NOTES, AND AN APPENDIX, BY J. A. MAYS. LONDON: ROBERT HARDWiCKE, 192, 1863. PICCADILLY �*** The number of visitors who are flocking to the building, which it was the purpose of the following notes to describe for the benefit of those who were present at the Opening, renders a further issue of them necessary. An account of the proceedings at the Opening is now added. J. A. MAYS. �IMPROVED DWELLINGS FOR THE INDUSTRIAL CLASSES. The friends of the movement for improving the condition of the dwellings of the working classes have cause to he thankful, in one respect, to the projectors of the twentynine schemes now before Parliament, for extending and completing the railway system of the metropolis, as great good is likely to be accomplished by causing public attention to be forcibly directed to the tremendous extent of the evils under which hundreds of thousands of the working population of London are suffering—evils arising mainly from the overcrowded and unhealthy condition of their dwellings. The success of the Underground Railway seems to have given extraordinary vitality to a whole host of metropolitan extension and junction lines, the construction of which, while necessitating the appro­ priation of some of the very few open areas that London still possesses, and going further towards converting the metropolis into a huge network of tunnels, aqueducts and arches, will also necessitate the entire removal of many hundred houses, the majority of which are occu­ pied by the industrial classes. The unhealthy nature and the insufficient extent of the accommodation with which thev are already provided, coupled with the sweeping and sudden destruction of the large number of dwelling-houses which the carrying out of these �4 projects involves, becomes a matter of serious incon­ venience to the working portion of the population, and of more than ordinary anxiety to the employers of labour and to the legislature. It is perfectly needless therefore to offer one word of apology in introducing the accom­ panying drawings to public notice. The importance of the project to which they relate, whether considered as regards the furtherance of social reforms, the prevention of disease, the extension of the railway systems of the country, the general amelioration of the condition of the labouring classes, or as purely a commercial speculation, renders it of the deepest moment that everything in the shape of practical experience, especially of that kind which points to a remedy for a state of things which every one deplores, should be placed before the public without delay. The nature and extent of the evils sought to be grappled with by a well-organized scheme, having for its object the rendering of the dwelling place of the working man a home in its truest sense, need not be here depicted, as they have been so often and so eloquently described by abler pens ; but assuming that there is no longer any doubt as to their existence, the object of the present paper is to attempt the indication of a cure rather than to describe the disease. Laborious efforts have been made of late years, under the auspices of the two great Societies, and by many benevolent persons, in attempting to surmount this subject, beset as it is on every hand with apparently unap­ proachable difficulties. Society is indebted to an incal­ culable extent to the labours of the late Prince Consort, the Earl of Shaftesbury, Miss Burdett Coutts, and many other generous spirits who have been content to spend large sums in this good work—a work which the noble earl just named rightly appreciates when he says : “ This �o is a subject about which you cannot think or speak too earnestly. The condition of the dwellings of the labour­ ing classes is the besetting sin and difficulty of. the time, for it stands in the way of every good moral impression.”— It is due to the unremitting efforts of philanthropists, under the auspices chiefly of the two great bodies,—the Society for Improving the Condition of the Working Classes, and the Metropolitan Association, coupled with the beneficial operation of certain legislative enactments, that the debasing condition of the dwellings in which so many many thousands of our countrymen arc located has been to some extent alleviated. A perusal of the annual reports of these Societies shows the long period over which their operations have extended, and the large amounts which they have expended ; but it is with a pang of heartfelt regret that one is forced to acknowledge that, most praiseworthy as their exertions have been as pioneering this good work, the success which might have been expected to result, from their labours has not yet been achieved. Though they have succeeded in producing in certain cases houses which satisfy the requirements of the working classes it is undoubtedly true that no building has yet been erected which, while combining the essential elements of comfort and respectability, produces in the shape of rent such a return on the money sunk in its erection as to induce capitalists to repeat similar experiments on a larger scale for the sake of the profits. It is obvious that if a scheme could be devised which would in every case attain these important objects, espe­ cially the latter, the matter would be set at rest at once and for ever; and it is equally obvious that until this can be done the subject must continue to be regarded as the greatest social difficulty of the day. The late Prince Consort indicated his clear perception of this truth some �6 years since in the observation he made to the Honorary Architect of Lord Shaftesbury’s Society—“ Mr. Roberts, unless we can get 7 or 8 per cent, we shall not succeed, in inducing builders to invest their capital in such houses,” Instead of addressing themselves vigorously to the ac­ complishment of what is here indicated, architects and builders, on whom such a project would naturally devolve, seem in a great measure to have relaxed their efforts latterly, and to be content to allow the question to be con­ sidered as one incapable of a profitable solution by any known application of the materials at their disposal. It would seem to be a matter of extreme importance, therefore, to examine previous experiments, with a view to ascertain in what respects greater economy in the cost of construction may be attained, and whether at the same time any of the buildings themselves present features which may be judiciously avoided. Addressing one’s attention to the last point, first let us notice incidentally the Institutional appearance that many of them present. It is unquestionable that in most of the buildings of this class the long rows of windows have a dreary monotonous effect, and impress on the mind the idea of a workhouse or of a penitentiary. This is perhaps not altogether preventible where many suites of dwellings have to be arranged in floors or flats one above the othei’; but it certainly speaks volumes as to the great want of decent accommo­ dation felt by the working classes, that although this is an objection which is universally admitted, it does not seem to operate to the exclusion of tenants ; still, it is an objection that should, if possible, be obviated in planning other buildings. Every opportunity should be seized of providing, if possible, a home which in every way tends to increase the self-respect of its occu­ pant, and to engender that principle in the mind which �7 indicates its presence in the cleanly appearance of the home itself, and sometimes adorns it with flowers and shrubs. It is advisable to give to each dwelling an individuality of appearance; and also to dissipate the feeling, unfortunately but too general, that the occu­ pants of the “ model dwellings ” are the recipients of charity. The next thing to be borne in mind is, that every tenant should have complete and exclusive use of all the essential accessories to a home ; such as water supply, sink, copper, dusf-shoot, coal-place, and watercloset. In some cases economy both of space and cost of building has been sought to be obtained by arrange­ ments whereby two or more tenants have had the use of these in common; but the divided use of such important requisites, which ought if possible to be in a decent wellregulated home reserved to the exclusive use of only a single family, is, I think, far from compensated by a slight saving of space and cost of erection. It would certainly be preferable to provide these appendages to every dwelling, even though it should render it necessary to adopt an exterior of tlic plainest possible description. In some of the so-called model dwellings recently erected, and to which the foregoing remarks would also apply, that which must at once be characterized as a defect of no ordinary kind is observable. Somewhat showy exteriors have been obtained at a great sacrifice of internal comfort ; —in the one case by the introduction, at a very great expense, of elliptical counter arches over every window and doorway in four large blocks of buildings containing in the aggregate some hundreds of openings : and in the other bv the use of ornamental stone columns at the door­ ways. These architectural luxuries seem to me to be sadly misplaced in buildings which cannot boast a particle of either plastering or paper on their internal �8 walls, and where every room, whether parlour, living-room or bed-room, presents a repetition of the bare and cheer­ less aspect of a prison cell. It is surely to be regretted that money should be lavishly applied to the production of that which is clearly unnecessary, at the expense of denying to the tenants the cheerfid effect and air of comfort that would be given to these dwellings by the addition of a few yards of plastering and paper-hangings. In no case save in the houses for working people would any architect venture to ignore the power of appreciation on the part of any portion of the community of the decencies of a well-arranged dwelling, or to profess that a mere whitewashed brick wall complies with the requirements of a modern dwelling-house in respect to its internal decoration. I am not alone in believing that the homes of workmen cannot by any possibility be rendered too attractive, complete, and comfortable; and that while they will often meet with stolid indifference anything of a “ missionising ” tendency, the working classes gladly welcome and warmly appreciate the efforts made to obviate the evils and improve the condition of their dwellings. What they very properly desire is, that, if possible, homes shall be provided capable of meeting the requirements of an English workman’s family—a home which shall present an appearance not unattractive, and the occupation of which shall not engender a feeling on their part that their friends will regard them as being the occupants of almshouses. I am conscious that this brief introduction has already extended beyond its proper limits; without indulging in any further digression, therefore, let me at once proceed to call attention to the peculiarities of the building repre­ sented in the accompanying })lan and elevation of a block of dwellings recently designed and erected by Mr. Matthew �9 Allen, of Tabernacle Walk, Finsbury, for Mr. Alderman Waterlow. A patient and anxious consideration of the whole subject led to the conclusion that the following were among the most important points which required consideration :— I. A ground plan easily adaptable to any plot of ground, capable of repetition to any extent, and presenting in the elevation a pleasing and attrac­ tive appearance. II. Suites of rooms at different rents, so planned as to secure the greatest economy of space, mate­ rials, and labour, in the erection of the building, providing at the same time for the exclusive use of each family, within the external door of the lettings, every essential requisite of domestic convenience. III. The construction of a flat roof capable of being used as a drying and recreation ground, so as to leave as much space as possible available for building. IV. Planning the positions of the doors, windows, and fireplaces, with reference to a suitable ar­ rangement of the furniture of the apartments, and the placing of proper fireplaces, cupboards, shelves, &c., in every room. V. An efficient system of drainage and ventilation. VI. Making the joinery as near as possible to an uniform size and pattern, so that machinery might be brought to bear in economizing its manufacture to a considerable extent. VII. The discovery and adaptation of a new material combining the properties of strength and dura­ �10 bility, adaptability, attractiveness of appearance, and cheapness, in an eminent degree. VIII. The combination of these advantages in build­ ings which, when let at fair rentals, would produce a good return on the outlay incurred in their erection. IX. The selection of a locality where the ground rent would not be excessive, although the tenants would be sufficiently near* their work to enable them to take their meals at home. Let us now see to what extent these advantages have been attained and combined in the present building. Its general plan may be described as a parallellogram of 56 feet by 44 feet, divided into four sections by a party wall in the centre and the two passages (EE) in the middle of each wing. The two centre sections arc set back about 3 feet from the line of frontage, for the purpose of giving space for a balcony of that width on each of the upper floors. Each section comprises one suite of rooms, to which access is obtained from the passages (EE) leading (on all the upper floors) direct from the balcony (G). The balconies arc reached by a fireproof staircase having a semi­ elliptical form, the entrances to which are shown on the elevation by the two doorways in the centre of the building. This staircase is continued to and gives access to the roof. The larger lettings, consisting of three rooms and a wash­ house, occupy the end sections of the building. E D the entrance door, g is a living room provided with a range having an oven and boiler. Leading out of the living room is tlie washhouse or scullery (ft) which contains in every case what may be called the accessories of the dwelling,— water cistern, sink, a small fireplace, washing copper, dust shoot, water-closet, &c. It is expected that the fireplace �11 in the washhouse will conduce greatly to the comfort of the living room in the summer time. Q is a comfortable bedroom having a fireplace; a capacious cupboard (H) is arranged in the party wall between this room and the entrance lobby, and over the latter is a useful receptacle for the stowage of bulky objects. Passing out towards the front parlour (0), is a series of shelves having an artificial stone bottom and back, intended by its proximity to the living room to serve as a cupboard for pro­ visions, &c. 0 is a, spacious handsome parlour having two windows : the fireplace is placed a little out of the centre of the room, so as to leave a convenient space in which to put an additional bed in cases where this would be required to be used as a bedroom. On the other side of the fireplace is a sideboard and cupboard. The centre sections, comprising the smaller lettings, consist of two rooms and a washhouse, &c. The wash­ house A and the living room B are exactly similar to those in the larger letting The bedroom Q can be con­ veniently converted into a parlour by arranging a set of curtains across the recess at the back of the room, and thus dividing the part where the bed would be placed from the rest of the apartment. WWW represent the win­ dows. The plan is the same on each side of the party walls, and every floor or flat is a repetition of the other. Close to the ceilings of all the rooms a ventilator is placed which communicates with air shafts running through the centres of the chimney stacks. The air is thus constantly rarified, and a system of natural ventilation is produced. Besides this, it will be seen that by setting open the windows a current of external air can be at one passed through every room in the direction of the dotted lines. The lower panes of the windows are filled in with ornamental ground glass, so that no window blinds �12 are necessary. The windows are constructed oil a some­ what novel principle, being made to open outwards like ordinary French casements, but the two lower panes are not made to open, so that the danger of children falling out, as well as the disadvantages of the ordinary window sashes, are avoided. All the rooms are 8 ft. 9 in. in height. The other dimensions are figured on the plan, and need not be repeated here. Drainage is effected by means of 4-in. stoneware pipes passing from the top of the building, down the corners of the washhouses, directly to the common sewer. The dust shaft carries the dust to covered receptacles at the base of the building, and each shoot is provided with an iron cover so as to pre­ vent the return of dust and effluvia. The dust shafts are also continued to the top of the building, and act as ven­ tilators to the dust bins. The greater part of the rooms especially the living rooms, have scarcely any external walls, so that they will be always warm and dry. All the rooms are plastered and papered, and the wash­ houses are plastered and coloured. Every tenant has his apartments completely to himself, and nothing is used in common except the roof as a drying and recreation ground. By extending the area of the building three or four feet in every direction the size of the rooms could be easily increased, and suites of rooms obtained well adapted to the requirements of any class of the community. With the view of judging of the happy effect that a row of these buildings would produce, the visitor is requested to stand a hundred yards away from the building and imagine the pleasing appearance of a street having several buildings like this on eacli side of the way. The party walls on the roofs might be dispensed with in cases where several blocks arc built side by side, and the roofs thus connected together would ���observing the rapid and facile manner in which it is made to assume any desired shape. Castings will be made and removed from moulds in the presence of the visitors. With respect to the window dressings and sills it will, probably, be admitted that the use of the new material is a vast improvement on the ordinary York sills, and yet the moulded ornamental sill is actually the cheaper of the two. In the case of the chimney pieces, too, a marked improvement is recognizable. The com­ monest Bath stone, got up in the plainest style, would cost about twice as much as those of artificial stone with ornamental sunk panels, and as there are seventy fire­ places in the building, there is a great saving in the aggregate. The effect when these are painted to imitate marble is very tasteful. The Building Act renders it imperative to make the stairs of fireproof materials ; and when we compare the cost of the stairs formed of this material with the price of ordinary stone steps, the saving is found to be enormous. The patent material possesses all the advantages of appearance and durability of allrtland stone staircase at one-fifth of its cost, and at half the price of even the commonest York staircase. These stairs were all fixed in their places as the building progressed, and they have endured the wear and tear of the �1G workmen s heavy boots for some months past—more wear, probably, than they will suffer for the next three or foul­ ’s. In some cases they were “nosed” with Portland nreprooi noors, m ordinary c construction of 9-in. walls for their support, but here the extraordinary lightness and strength of the material just described enables 4-in. walls to be used with perfect safety. The economy of materials and labour in this respect in a building of five stories is so obvious that it need hardly be referred to. Portions of the building will remain unoc­ cupied for a few days after the opening for the inspection of visitors presenting their cards, and opportunities of making accurate comparisons of the superiority and diminished cost of various articles formed of this material and of the ordinary building stones will be afforded. The judicious arrangements of the plan already alluded to as securing the greatest economy of space and cost of construction, combined with the application of this beautiful material, overcome the great difficulty hitherto felt in attempting to deal with the problem of reducing the cost of such buildings to a sum that the net rent would pay a good return in the shape of interest on the outlay. The pleasure with which one greets the appear­ ance of such a building is enhanced by the knowledge, �17 based on experience, that similar erections can be under­ taken at a cost of something like £110 per dwelling (see account annexed at page 20). All that is now required seems to be the judicious application of capital to the ex­ tension of the system in the overcrowded districts of the metropolis and the large towns of the kingdom. It is earnestly desired to avoid the use of any names which could have the effect of attaching to the buildings the idea of their being intended for the exclusive use of a particular class. It is feared that the somewhat indis­ criminate use of the word “model” in connection with this and kindred subjects, has had anything but a bene­ ficial effect; it seems to be associated with the ideas of centralization so repugnant to the feelings of Englishmen. The Earl of Shaftesbury honoured the building with a visit some few days since, and stated distinctly that a more cheerful and attractive home had been built for £110 than either of the Metropolitan Associations had produced at a minimum of £180. On leaving, he expressed himself as having spent one of the happiest afternoons of his life, as he had that day seen that which he had been looking for in vain for many years, viz., a clean, healthy, and desira­ ble home for a mechanic, erected at a price that would pay a fair return on the money invested. The careful inspection of the friends of the movement, with which the name of this noble earl is so honourably associated, are cordially invited to afford the projectors the benefit of their criticism. It is hoped that it will be easy to engraft upon the plan as it stands any minor improve­ ments that may be suggested by the experience and know­ ledge of others. It should not be forgotten that the buildings now under review have been erected within a quarter of an hour’s walk of the Bank of England, and therefore easily within 2 �18 the reach of the large number of artizans employed in the City of London. This is a most important feature, for the oftener a man takes his meals at home, and the more he cultivates a domestic life, the less he is likely to yield to the flaring attractions of the beershop and the gin palace : the more he associates with his family, and sub­ mits to the gentle influence of little children, the easier will he be elevated in the social scale, improved as a neighbour and influenced as a Christian. Looking down from the beautiful flat roof of Lang­ bourn Buildings, the eye-rests upon four or five acres of ground covered with the most wretched houses, or rather hovels, the majority of them containing only two rooms each and having no back windows : the sight is saddening, and would be most depressing if it were not cheered with a knowledge that all these vile, tumble-down dwellings, so close to the heart of the City of London, are now the property of the Corporation of London, and will in 1867 revert to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners : there is some hope that one or both of these public bodies, being so deeply interested in the improvement of the homes of the labouring classes, may devote a large portion of the site to the accomplishment of so important an object. In conclusion, it is possible that the objection may be raised that the rents of the dwellings in Langbourn Buildings (0.5. to 6-s. 6<7. per week) are beyond the means of the working class. The reply to this would be, that, con­ tiguous to the spot where this building stands, four other blocks are to be erected ; and that long before this the first block was completed, applications were received to a suffi­ cient number to have filled the whole of the five blocks had they been ready, and now that this one is ready for occupa­ tion, not a day passes without bringing with it swarms of eager applicants to be received as tenants at these and even ���APPENDIX. THE OPENING. After a minute inspection of the building in every part, and an examination of the various uses to which the patent material had been applied, as explained by the builder and inventor, Mr. Allen, the company adjourned to the flat roof, where refreshments were served under an awning. Amongst the noblemen and gentlemen present were :— Lord Radstock, Lord Ebury, W. A. Wilkinson, Esq., Samuel Morley, Esq., S. Gregson, Esq., M.P., C. S. Fortescue, Esq., M.P., Fredk. Byng, Esq., M.P., Edwin Chadwick, Esq., C.B., Wm. Hawes, Esq., Hy. Roberts, Esq , Benjamin Scott, Esq., F.R.S.S., Russell Scott, Esq., J. H. Friswell, Esq., Rev. W. Denton, George Godwin, Esq., F.R.S., Revd. E. Bayley, H. Barnett, Esq., Thos. Benton. Eso.. W. H. Collingridge, Esq., C. Reed, Esq., J. C. Colquhoun, Esq., Hy. Dawson Esq., Robt. Dimsdale, Esq., Edward Enfield, Esq., C. Gatliff, Esq., J. C. Conybeare, Esq., A. Haldane, Esq., C. J. Hilton, Esq., Jno. Hollinshead, Esq., H. De Jersey, Esq., C.C., D. Simms, Esq., C.C , Rev. A. P. Kelley, W. J. Makwell, Esq., Rev. S. Minton, Jno. Sperling, Esq., HrV. Tt TiinrwAll Ebury. The noble Chairman said that at the request of Mr. Waterlow he proposed to say a few words in reference to the object which had brought them together that day ; but it was a subject so extremely interesting in itself, and of such extraordinary importance, that it was really hard to say only a few words upon it. At that high altitude and somewhat low temperature, however, he would endea­ vour to be as brief as possible. Important and absorbing as had �22 been the events of the past week in connection with the marriage of the Prince of Wales, fraught as they were with interest to every one present, and the excitement of which would be still fresh in their minds, he yet felt that the circumstance which had brought them together on the top of that house were of deeper interest and of far more importance than those of which he was quite certain they all had so lively a recollection, for upon the successful solution of this great problem the welfare of our town populations entirely depended. It was a subject upon which, as Lord Shaftesbury had eloquently said, no man could think or speak too earnestly; for the condition of the dwellings of the labouring classes was the besetting sin and difficulty of the time, as it stood in the way of every good moral impression. He was very sorry that that noble Lord was not present to share their gratification, but he was quite sure that he would have been there had it been possible. He saw before him a great number of gentlemen who with himself had been long labouring in this cause, and though they had met with somewhat bare success, he was sure he was but speaking the feelings of all his friends and fellow-labourers in saying that although they had not achieved great commercial success, yet the work had not disgusted or dissatisfied them, because they knew the real good they had effected among certain classes of the people, and that in the commence­ ment of an undertaking with the details and practical working of which they were not practically acquainted they must expect to meet with considerable failures. But to-day their interest in that under­ taking centred itself in the project before them. He did not know whether it was too early in the clay to say that the problem was solved altogether ; but after having very attentively perused the document which described the building, and having now care­ fully inspected the building itself, he must say that, taking the figures to be correct, and that it was capable of producing a rent which would give a per-centage of seven or eight per cent, on the outlay in its erection, a result had been obtained of no slight impor­ tance, as it solved the difficulty over which previous experimentalists had stumbled, and proved that building enterprises of that nature could be rendered commercially remunerative. There were tides in the affairs of men,—crises in the development of all great movements. Buildings (5s. to 6s. 6c/. per week) are beyond the means c the working- class. The reply to this would be, that, cor tiguous to the spot where this building stands, lour othi , 1 -] J •) _ X J -1 i 1 rftAll lUVfveti 111 villi there to criticise the budding in every way, and he could tell him that he had some severe critics there that day—critics who would look to the proper accommodation of even the smallest child in the establishment, and that had in fact been done; indeed,it was neces­ sary that all these things should undergo the most careful scrutiny. He could fairly say for himself, although he did not pretend to possess the knowledge and experience of some of his friends around him, that he could really find but little fault. He had looked at it �23 in the most careful manner—he had felt it with his fingers—he had walked about it—he had poked it with his umbrella, and he had asked his friends’ opinion about it; and at that moment he had not. been able to find anything of any importance to criticise. He was quite unable to pick a hole in the undertaking, and he thanked God that he had put it into the heart of a Christian man to do this great and good work. (Cheers.) He thanked Mr. Waterlow from the bottom of liis heart for the privilege of being allowed to be present that day. He felt that this was a movement which laid at the foundation of all social and religious progress, for it was impossible to make impressions for good which could have any permanent effect on the min<ls of the people, surrounded as they were in their homes with that which tended only to brutalize and degrade. He begged to propose Mr. Alderman Waterlow’s very good health. (Loud cheers.) In responding to the toast, Mr. Alderman Waterlow thanked the noblemen and gentlemen present for their attendance there that day and for their kind appreciation of his endeavours. He said that his object in asking them there was twofold—first, of obtaining the advice and criticism of men far better acquainted with the subject than himself, before proceeding to the further development of his scheme ; and he hoped also that the result of assembling together so many distinguished philanthropists would be, that they would not separate without laying the foundation of some broad and comprehensive scheme for giving further stimulus to this most important movement, in which he had endeavoured to render some assistance. He would not dwell upon that which the Chairman had already urged with so much clearness, as to the necessity of improving the domestic con­ dition of the people before hoping to effect anything in the way of a permanent moral reform, but he would <ask how much of the great increase of that form of crime which was designated the social evil owed its origin to the over-crowded and immoral huddling together of the sexes. So long, too, as the working classes were compelled to live in close, inconvenient, badly devised and overcrowded dwell­ ings, it was impossible to make them thoroughly feel and appreciate the great truths of the Bible. He was thoroughly convinced that before the preaching and teaching of ministers of religion could have that beneficial effect on the labouring classes which they all lookedfc >r ■ ward to, that the demoralizing influences which now surrounded the poor in the condition of their homes must be removed. So strongly had this been seen of late, that vigorous attempts had been made to improve the dwellings of the poor. Without referring in detail to the great efforts that had been already put forth in various quarters, he would go at once to that which was undoubtedly the great diffi­ culty of the matter—the apparent impossibility of obtaining a good return on the outlay incurred in the erection of Improved Dwellings. It was because of this failure of remuneration that capitalists could not be found willing to continue the erection of such dwellings. He wanted to show that 8 or 9 per cent. CQuld be obtained by the adoption of the present plan. He was constantly referred to the practical �24 results realized by the Metropolitan Associations, and was told that the return he predicted looked better on paper than would eventually tarn out; but the Metropolitan Associations were the pioneers of the movement—they had had to contend with and conquer diffi­ culties which would now be avoided—they had gradually acquired an experience of which others were reaping the profit; and their own accounts showed a return of 4| per cent, on the Family Dwell­ ings erected in St. Pancras Square on a cost of erection at the rate of £160 per dwelling, but here the cost of such a dwelling would be only £110, and the same rents were obtained: there­ fore it was obvious that that which returned 4J per cent, on £160 would amount to 7 per cent, on £110. But the average return on the operations of the Metropolitan Association was not encouraging. This society had spent about £80,000, and had only realized a return of about 2| per cent. He felt certain that it was on this point that he was able to demonstrate a remedy. It was simply a question of reducing the cost of dwellings to such a sum that the amount received by their rental should form a good and encouraging return on the outlay. It was absurd to suppose that the great body of working people were to be allowed to depend on the efforts of charitable people to provide them with homes. He was quite prepared, if any gentlemen were desirous of proof, to show that these buildings, which were certainly quite equal to those of St. Pancras, could be erected in any number for £110 each. He would say one word as to locality : he believed it to be a m atter of the most essential importance, both as a matter of economy and policy, that the working man’s home should be near enough to his work to enable him to take every meal with his family ; it was better, cheaper, and more comfortable in every respect. He believed that the more a man was Subjected to home influences of a healthy kind, the less he was likely to succumb to the flaring attractions of the gin palaces. One of the best possible localities, he thought, for carrying out an experiment of this kind was that in which they then were,the freehold of which belonged to the Ecclesiastical Com­ missioners, and held by the Corporation of the City of London, on a jease expiring in 1867. If those two powerful bodies could be influenced to give preference in reletting the ground to the pro­ moters of a movement having for its object the removal of the wretched hovels they saw around them, and the replacing them with dwellings of a similar character to that on which they then stood, a great advantage would be gained. The importance of such a movement was admitted on all hands, and he thought that he had now proved its feasibility. He did not, for one moment, mean it to be understood that they were desirous of obtaining possession of the ground on more favourable terms than others ; all that he wanted was, the assurance of an ordinary lease on the ordinary terms at the ordinary market value of the ground. In the present case, the ground­ rent was twice that which it ought to be, in consequence of his having had to negotiate with and pay large premiums to persons who stood between himself and the freeholders. He would add a word �25 or two further, before sitting down, when he would be prepared, and anxious, to answer any question which might be put to him. The piece of ground of which he had obtained possession was sufficient for the erection of ninety homes such as they had just inspected, by the removal of 32 two-roomed houses such as those around him ; he felt that in the erection of these ninety homes, and in thus assisting to prove the possibility of making such undertakings pay, he was doing as much as could be properly expected of him as a private individual; but he could not sit down without saying, that, in his opinion, the figures and facts he had brought forward made out a proper case for the operations of a public company, a body having a large capital divided into two classes, the protected capital and the unprotected capital, the former bearing a fixed rate of interest, 4 per cent., the latter taking the commercial risk and the rest of the profit. He made this suggestion because he was told, on very good authority, that there were plenty of people who, if they could be guaranteed a fixed rate of 4 per cent., would be glad to invest large sums of money in such an undertaking; and he believed that the public would be readily tempted to take up the unprotected capital,, on the prospect of obtaining 10 or 12 per cent, for their money. In this case he showed a return of over 9 per cent., even under the disadvantage of the high ground-rent which he had mentioned 'r but if they thought this overestimated, let them strike off 20 or 25 per cent., as a discount on his statements ; that would then leave them more than 6 per cent., and the difference between that and 4 per cent., which would have to be paid on the protected capital, would bring up the other half—the unprotected capital— to 9 per cent. If the suggestion was thought worth acting on, he would be only too happy to do all in his power to carry it out. He, was sure that there were many gentlemen present who were able to offer valuable advice and criticism, and he assured them that he was very anxious to hear everything they might have tosay. He begged to thank them heartily for the honour they did him in drinking his health, and to express the great pleasure he derived in seeing so many friends of the working classes present on the occasion. Edwin Hill, Esq., as an old director of the Metropolitan Associa­ tion, claimed the privilege of saying a few words. He said that the physical and moral good created by the erection of such a building as the present extended far beyond its own area, as it acted as a most powerful competitor with the dirty, squalid habita­ tions by which it was surrounded, and that in many cases the landlords of the latter had been compelled in self interest to imitate the good example of cleanliness set by these kind of dwell­ ings. He felt, moreover, that such a home greatly conduced tothe moral purity of its inmates. Edwin Chadwick, Esq., C.B., said there could not be a doubt that these buildings were a very large stride in economy of construction, and that if the same economy had been enforced by the Metropo­ litan Association they would have had 7 or 8 per cent. All the �26 medical officers of health would agree with him that this building was perfectly fever proof if they took care to prevent two people occupying space intended only for one. This building might be looked upon as well adapted to the requirements of the Earl of Shaftesbury’s provision, that in future railway com­ panies proposing to pull down a number of dwellings should be compelled to erect a proportionate number of others in their place. It was plain, in fact, that the railway companies would probably make more money by the erection of such buildings than by the construction of their lines. Lord Radstock thought that as the gentlemen invested with the disposition of Mr. Peabody’s munificent gift appeared to be undecided as to how to apply it, it might go with some force to them if those present were to unite in suggesting to them, that before making any arrangement for its disposition they should, at any rate, give this matter their most careful considera­ tion. He was quite sure that any representation from such an influential body of gentlemen as those then present would be apt to attract more attention on the part of the trustees than would be likely to be awakened by merely seeing the reports in the news­ papers. Mr. Alderman Waterlow had hoped that the trustees of the Peabody Fund would have dealt with it in a different way, and he thought that instead of turning their attention to building homes, it would be better if they applied the money to the purchase of sites, to be let at nominal reuts, under a stringent covenant that the lease should be instantly void if the ground was at any time used for any other purpose than providing dwellings for the poor. They would thus be offering most direct inducements for the construction of good, healthy, well-built dwellings; the ground would be constantly increasing in value, and would remain in perpetuity as the poor man’s site. J. C. Conybeare, Esq., had been long convinced that the only remedy for the existing evils was the use of some material which would at once effect a great reduction in the prune cost of construc­ tion, and he felt that that was obtained in the present building. With regard to the proper carrying out of any undertaking for the complete development of this very valuable idea, he would much prefer to see it left in the hands of a London Aiderman ; he would be glad to see it worked by a philanthropic citizen, aided by his commercial and mercantile fellows of the citizen world of England. It required to be taken up and prosecuted entirely as a business matter. He would be sorry to see the Peabody Fund applied to building any of these houses, but he thought that the suggestion as to its acquiring sites was a remarkably good one. He was anxious that something should be done, too, for the improvement of the cottages of England ; he could speak from experience of the fact that they were in a most disgraceful condition in several counties. Samvel Morley, Esq., in moving the first resolution, “ That this meeting having inspected Mr. Aiderman Waterlow’s model building �27 ancl listened to the explanations afforded, is of opinion that the very best moral and social results, and very fair expectations of an ample return on the capital invested, would result from, the erection of such buildings,” said, he had very great pleasure in meeting then Lordships and the gentlemen present on that occasion for he could not doubt that if the statements they had heard and the figures put forward in the balance-sheet were borne out by the facts a great stride had been made in the subject which laid so close to the great social questions of the day. He joinedmost heartily in the encomiums that had been pronounced upon the building.. He thought that the builder had in a very prominent manner exhibited a degree of talent in designing, and attention to his work in executing it, whic 1 deserved to be taken notice of by them, and that, at any rate, he ought to receive the expression of their respectfid admiration. He had read with great interest the pamphlet with which lie supposed they had all been provided, and he quite agreed with the writer m insisting that attention should be paid to the provision of every necessary accessory of a home to the exclusive use of a single letting. He sympathized also with the respectful attention, which it demanded, to the comforts of the working-man. He would have been glad to have seen the fulfilment of the promise which the late Mr. Pearson made, by which arrangements could be made for large numbers ot workmen living out of town. With regard to the rents, he accepted the explanation offered in the pamphlet on that subject, andlie thought at, the same time that the accommodation was well worth what was charged. He was entirely in favour of carrying the matter further under private supervision, and he was quite prepared to go into le matter if Aiderman Waterlow would put himself at the head of such an undertaking. He should go into it with a clear and distinct expectation of receiving a good return on his capital. The amount of money which could be used iu connection with such a scheme was perfectly enormous, and he believed it could now be most, profitably applied in this way. . m-Datn The City Chamberlain (Benjamin Scott, Esq., f .K.b.b.) naci great pleasure in seconding the resolution He did not know whether he had been invited there in his official capacity or not, but he felt that he should not be unduly committing himself, or the other members of the Corporation who were present, in stating that in the event of his advice being required as to whether the invest­ ment of a portion of the Corporation’s large funds m this undertaking was advisable, he should have no hesitation whatever in saying that, in his opinion, such an investment would be a highly safe and proper one, and that it would be likely to be productive, at the same time, of the greatest moral and social benefit to the people of the metro­ polis. They had gone into the consideration of the question some years since, and obtained powers from Parliament to apply a large portion of their spare capital in the erection of Improved Dwellings. The question had, however, remained m abeyance, m consequence of their finding they could not build them at a remunerative rate. The building to which their attention was then directed, how­ �28 ever, would, no doubt, lead to a revival of the subject. This building, so far as his observation went, was a return to a practice uni­ versal in the ancient world, and general at the present time in the eastern world, of availing themselves of the pure air and light of heaven which were to be obtained at the elevated position in which they stood. Medical men would tell them that the cheerful influence of the solar rays, and the refreshing breezes, were of as much importance to health as a proper supply of good food and pure water. He saw no reason why we should not, as far as possible, adopt the salutary practice of the Turk, of constantly frequenting the housetop. Henry Roberts, Esq., F.R.S., said that he wished to give ex­ pression to the great interest and satisfaction with which he had gone over this building. It seemed to him to be one of the fruits produced by the small building erected by His Royal Highness Prince Albert at the Exhibition of 1851. He had seen that build­ ing repeated in various forms, not only in the United Kingdom, but in many places on the Continent; and he now saw the same build­ ing extended and repeated here. Here were the open staircase and gallery—the fire-proof floors and the flat roof—all of which were leading features in the lamented Prince Consort’s model dwellings. He was quite sure that, if they knew as he did, the great interest with which His Royal Highness devoted himself to the subject, they would feel especial pleasure in finding that this building was a further development of the excellences which were so notice­ able in those model dwellings of 1851. He would take that oppor­ tunity of testifying to the fact that up to the closing scene of his eventful life the subject before them had been to Prince Albert one of unflagging interest. Mr. Robert Cranston supported the resolution, and dwelt with great force on his experience in connection with the erection of buildings of a similar class in Edinburgh. He was prepared to show a clear return of 8 per cent, as the result of his investments. If a proper plan were adopted in the first instance, and a suitable locality chosen, he could not have the slightest doubt that this re­ turn might be always obtained. He might state that he was origi­ nally himself a practical builder, and Mr. Allen had kindly allowed him access to the figures in connection with this undertaking, and in the presence of these and his own experience he hoped to hear no more of the operations of charitable associations, as the necessity for their help in the matter had now passed away, and it would be only a matter of time to apply the natural remedy which was now happily attained. The resolution on being put from the chair was carried unani­ mously. W. A. Wilkinson, Esq. proposed the health of the noble Chair­ man, and bore testimony to the readiness with which he associated himself with every movement of a progressive nature. The toast having been drank, The Chairman thanked the gentlemen present for the compli­ �29 ment, and said that the work in which they were engaged was bound to go forward ; it had received an impetus that day which would not allow of the question standing still any longer. There was one omission to which he felt bound to call the worthy Alderman’s at­ tention. He had invited only gentlemen to be present that day. Now, the ladies were quite as much interested in the question, and, whether they knew it or not, he believed that they had a great deal more influence in it than the gentlemen. (Cheers.) Mr. Alderman Waterlow explained that the building would remain open for public inspection for two or three weeks, and he hoped that would afford a better opportunity for ladies to inspect it. The Chairman continued. There was a duty before them which he was sure all would gladly discharge. They had inspected the whole of this building, and were delighted with the completeness ofits arrangement in every part; but they ought to be mindful of the fact that that which gave them so much pleasure to see realized had been a matter of long-continued patient thought and effort on the part of Mr. Allen. He could quite understand that there must have been an enormous amount of really laborious work in re­ arranging, and altering, and turning about in every way. He proposed that they should drink the health of the architect and builder, Mr. Allen, and wish success to the project which had been suggested. The toast was drank with great cordiality. Mr. Allen thanked their lordships and the gentlemen present for the kind manner in which his name had been referred to, and for the honour they had just done him. He could assure them that this building had been a matter of the greatest anxiety and interest to him for the past three or four years, but now that it was completed he felt that it amply rewarded him for all the time he had bestowed upon it. He was now only anxious that the number of them should be greatly increased, and after what had been said that day he had no doubt that the matter would be placed in the hands of men capable of ensuring it the success which he was proud to believe it deserved. (Cheers.) The Chairman said that the whole subject seemed to him one of such vital importance in every way that he proposed to ask the Rev. Samuel Minton, with Mr. Waterlow’s permission, to offer a few words of prayer for its success. The Rev. S. Minton having complied with this request the com­ pany dispersed. ���HEALTHY DWELLINGS FOR THE INDUSTRIAL CLASSES, LANGBOURN BUILDINGS, MARK STREET, PAUL STREET, FINSBURY SQUARE. Designed and erected by Mr. Matthew Allen, for Mr. Alderman Wateri.ow. ��Ground Plan af a Flat, Nos. 1 and 4 having Four! Rooms, and Nos. 2 and 3 Three Rooms in each Letting. The coloured parts indicate that the floors are constructed of Alien’s patent fireproof material, of which also the staircases and roofs are composed. References: A-Wash-house W *_________________ ,_______________ _ ___________________________________ ___________________ 56' 3‘ W F' External Staircase _____________________________________________________________________________________ HEALTHY DWELLINGS FOR THE INDUSTRIAL CLASSES, LANGBOURN BUILDINGS, MARK STREET, PAUL STREET, FINSBURY SQUARE. Designed and erected by Mr. Matthew Allen, for Mr. Alderman Waterlow � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; 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> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Improved dwellings for the industrial classes: ground plan and elevation of Langbourn Buildings, Mark Street, Paul Street, Finsbury Square, designed and erected for Alderman Waterlow by Mr. Matthew Allen, with descriptive notes, and an appendix by J.A Mays Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 29 p. : ill. (2 folded plates) ; 20 cm. Notes: Incomplete: p.15/16, part cut away; p. 19/20 removed; p. 21/22 part cut away. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway, Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Mays, J.A. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1863 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Robert Hardwicke Subject The topic of the resource Housing Social problems Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (Improved dwellings for the industrial classes: ground plan and elevation of Langbourn Buildings, Mark Street, Paul Street, Finsbury Square, designed and erected for Alderman Waterlow by Mr. Matthew Allen, with descriptive notes, and an appendix by J.A Mays), identified by </span><span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a></span><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5396 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Housing Langbourn Buildings - London London Sidney Hedley Waterlow Social Problems Working Classes