French and German Socialism in Modern Times

Richard T. Ely

French and German Socialism in Modern Times

Published by Good Press, 2022

[email protected]

EAN 4057664604507

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND THE LABORING CLASSES.

CHAPTER II. BABŒUF.

CHAPTER III. CABET.

CHAPTER IV. SAINT-SIMON.

CHAPTER V. FOURIER.

CHAPTER VI. LOUIS BLANC.

CHAPTER VII. PROUDHON.

CHAPTER VIII. SOCIALISM IN FRANCE SINCE PROUDHON.

CHAPTER IX. RODBERTUS.

CHAPTER X. KARL MARX.

CHAPTER XI. THE INTERNATIONAL WORKINGMEN’S ASSOCIATION.

CHAPTER XII. FERDINAND LASSALLE.

CHAPTER XIII. THE IDEA OF SOCIAL DEMOCRACY.

CHAPTER XIV. SOCIAL DEMOCRACY SINCE THE DEATH OF LASSALLE.

CHAPTER XV. SOCIALISM OF THE CHAIR.

CHAPTER XVI. CHRISTIAN SOCIALISM.

INDEX.

CHAPTER I.

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND THE LABORING CLASSES.

Table of Contents

Communism and Socialism represent different and yet allied movements of theory and practice. They aim to improve the common lot of humanity, in particular that of the lower classes, in a radical manner and by the application of thoroughgoing measures. Now, when we utter the word improvement we indicate a desire to change, and consequently dissatisfaction with the state which is to be changed. This brings us at once to the common standing-ground of politico-economic reformers. They are one and all dissatisfied with the present condition of society. We have, therefore, in the first place, to examine the accusations which are brought against the social régime of our time.

Complaints against the methods of producing and distributing wealth are not new; complaints of such a character as we hear at present, however, have originated since the middle of the eighteenth century. Before the French Revolution, dissatisfaction with the then existing order of things had been expressed often enough, and had even led to rebellion; but the economic life of Christendom was then different from what it is now, and consequently the discontent and the proposed measures of reform were not of the same nature. While the study of the condition of the laboring classes in ancient times and the Middle Ages is highly profitable, it is not necessary to go farther back than the latter part of the eighteenth century to obtain a tolerably accurate notion of existing socialism and communism.

A brief examination of the peculiarities of modern socialistic schemes will make this plain. One of these is to be found in the developed self-consciousness and awakened desires of the poor, taking their origin in democratic institutions and increased enlightenment. Another is the greater prominence given to capital in the present system of production. Disputes concerning capital-profit and wages now lead to communistic and socialistic schemes. Such war-cries, to use the words of Schäffle’s Socialism as Presented by Kaufmann, as we find Lassalle raising against capital, would not have been even understood among the ancients and the oppressed classes of the Middle Ages. The promises held out by agitators to the masses now are: equal rights for all, no monopolies, liberty and equality for the people. Liberalism itself has paved the way to communism. The right of coalition among laborers for their own interests, liberty of the press, the extension of the suffrage, together with the facility of rapid and cheap inter-communication by post and telegraph, afford laborers the means for united action where their interests are at stake. The working-man of our day has a consciousness of his own power quite unparalleled by any of his compeers in former ages.

A third peculiarity of modern forms of communism and socialism is their cosmopolitan and practical character. All the plans of reformers, described in this work, were meant to be executed and to inaugurate a new era in the development of humanity. Attempts have been made, or are being made, to realize every one of them. Older socialistic schemes are of two kinds. Those of the first class were applied only to sects or small associations. Such were the communities of Buddhist and Christian monks and the villages of the Essenes in Judea. Those of the second class were dreamy and speculative. No attempt was made by their authors or any group of immediate disciples to regenerate the world by substituting them for existing social and economic organizations. Of this character were the Republic of Plato and the Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Even the speculations of French writers immediately preceding the Revolution, like Mably, Morelly, Brissot de Warville, and Jean Jacques Rousseau, were of this kind. Jean Brissot, for example, tickled the palates of those craving literary and philosophical sensation by declaring private property theft, and then defended private property in the National Convention of 1792;[1] while Rousseau, only a few months after lamenting that the first man who laid claim to property had not been instantly denounced as the arch foe of the human race, speaks respectfully in his Political Economy of property as the basis of the social compact, whose first condition was that every one should be protected in its enjoyment.[2] Morley says of him that he never thought of the subversion of society or its reorganization on a communistic basis, and that would hold generally of French socialistic thinkers before 1789. Modern socialists and communists, on the other hand, not only think of a reorganization of society, but work with might and main to accomplish it. This at once draws a broad line between them. This difference finds expression in new designations. A man without property is no longer what he was previous to the French Revolution—viz., a poor man; he is a proletarian, while the class to which he belongs are not called collectively the poor, but the proletariat.

Previous to the French Revolution an attempt had been made to embrace all the inhabitants of a state in some shape in a fixed and definite social organism. There were the ruling classes, consisting of the nobility and the clergy, and the commons. The latter were, to be sure, hewers of wood and carriers of water for the two higher estates, but they were bound to them in a certain manner. The feudal lord usually felt some sort of concern for the welfare of his vassals, looked after their interests, when these interests were attacked by others, and in a general way afforded them protection to be found only in his wealth and power. The greatest of the feudal lords, the sovereign, was the mighty father of all, and his government was often a shield to the weak and helpless. The third estate, the bourgeoisie—those who pursued trades and commerce—were connected together, and with the rest of society, by guilds and corporations. The arrangements of these institutions brought into close personal contact master and laborers. Manufactures were conducted in small shops, where the employer worked side by side with two or three journeymen and apprentices, the latter living in the master’s house. According to the rules of the guilds the apprentice became a journeyman in a few years, and the journeyman rose in time to the rank of master. Thus there were common experiences and common feelings to unite employers and employed. They were not distinct and separate classes, with interests sharply antagonistic to one another.

It is so unusual to hear one speak a good word for the institutions of the Middle Ages, that I fear the reader will be tempted to exclaim, Can any good thing come out of Nazareth? But that it may not be necessary to take my ipse dixit for believing that there was a favorable side to feudalism, I will quote the testimony of Thorold Rogers, Professor of Political Economy in the University of Oxford, and one of the most distinguished economists of our time. It is in vain to rejoice over the aggregate of our prosperity, says Professor Rogers, in his History of Agriculture and Prices,[3] and to forget that great part of the nation has no share in its benefits. It may be that the wisdom of our forefathers was accidental; it is certain that society was divided by less sharp lines, and was held together by common ties in a far closer manner, in the times which it has been my fortune to study [the Middle Ages], than it is now. The feudal system of the Middle Ages was one of mutual interests; its theory of property involved far more exacting duties than modern rights ever acknowledge, or remember, or perhaps know.

The war of La Vendée, in the French Revolution, gives striking corroboration of this view of feudalism. In the western part of France, particularly in Anjou, feudal institutions still retained their better characteristics, while in other provinces large landed proprietors intrusted their estates to agents, that they might lead idle and dissipated lives in Paris. The landlords of La Vendée and the surrounding country lived on their manors, and took a paternal interest in the well-being of their peasants and dependents. The relations of Church and people were those of protection and affection. The result was the obstinate adherence of this part of France to the old order of things, and the stubborn resistance of the peasants of Anjou and Poitou to the revolution.[4]

Yes, it is true; much more can be said in favor of the social organization of the Middle Ages than is commonly supposed. Nor were those times so backward as many think. Cities like Nuremberg, in Germany, show remains of the civilization of the Middle Ages which convince one that a considerable grandeur had then been attained, and that the people of those times were by no means in every respect inferior to us. But the framework of this past civilization, not admitting of expansion, broke to pieces. It was not large enough for the modern growth of population and wealth. Its institutions were abused by those in power, and in a time of general corruption and oppression they fell with a terrible crash. The French Revolution swept them away forever. While this revolution formed one of the grandest epochs in history, it left society in a singularly disorganized state. No one appeared to be connected with his fellow-man. Each one stood alone by himself. The individualistic and atomistic condition of modern society had begun. In the reaction which followed upon restraint this was thought to be an unmixed good. Each one was left free to pursue his own interests in his own way. Commerce and industries took a wonderful start, and by the aid of inventions and discoveries expanded in such a rapid and all-embracing manner as to astound the world. It is probable that as we, after more than two thousand years, look back upon the time of Pericles with wonder and astonishment as an epoch great in art and literature, posterity two thousand years hence will regard our era as forming an admirable and unparalleled epoch in the history of industrial invention. During this time of growth and increasing wealth it was at first generally thought that everything was moving along finely. The third estate had been emancipated. Its members had no longer to bear alone the burdens of government. It betook itself to trade and manufactures, grew wealthy, and became the bourgeoisie of modern political economy. But speedily a fourth estate was discovered, whose members consisted of dependents—workers for daily wages. What had been done for them? They had also nominal freedom, but did they enjoy actual freedom? They were in possession of political equality, but had they advanced one single step in the direction of social and economic equality? There were not wanting those who went even further than to answer both of these questions in the negative. They pointed to the fact that the weak and needy had, as never before, lost all connection with the strong and powerful. Hundreds of laborers crowded in a single shop lost all personal feeling with their one employer. Formerly the distance between journeyman and master was slight, and the passage from the one condition to the other could invariably be effected by diligence and ability. This change of condition now became absolutely impossible for the greater number. The majority of those engaged in manufactures must, in the nature of things, remain common laborers. A few, unusually gifted or favored, might hope to rise, but even for them it became ever more difficult to ascend the social ladder. On the one hand, the division of labor was carried so far that the labor performed by each was exceedingly simple. Instead of taxing the ingenuity, and thereby conducing to mental development, the endless repetition and sameness of the labor tended to make one stupid. On the other hand, inventions rendered it necessary not only to employ an ever-increasing number of machines, but to make use of those which were constantly becoming more expensive.[5] The gulf between employer and employed widened unceasingly. The employer, losing personal feeling with his laborers, too often forgot that they were men with natures like his own. Frequently, it must be acknowledged, he looked upon them as mere beasts of burden, and regarded their labor in the same light as any other commodity which was sold in the market-place. They were hired for the cheapest price, worked to the utmost limit of endurance, and, when used-up, thrown aside like any other old and worthless machine. The capitalist grew richer, and among the higher classes of society luxury and extravagance increased. The laborer, noticing all this, asked himself if his lot had in any respect improved. He was inclined to deny that it had. His daily bread was not earned with less toil, nor was he surer of an opportunity to work. His existence was as uncertain and as full of anxiety as ever. Being brought together in large shops with those in like condition, he talked over his wrongs and sufferings with them. A class-feeling was developed. The heartlessness and assumed superiority of those who had become suddenly, and often by mere chance, wealthy were looked upon with frowns and gloomy countenances foreboding no good. The harsh separation in material goods between these parvenus and the lower classes was accompanied by no mitigating circumstances. In the case of the old and wealthy families of a more ancient era the superiority in wealth appeared more just, on account of lapse of time and a certain superiority in intellect and manners. They were, to a considerable extent, superior beings in other respects than mere externals. The new rich looked down upon and despised the orders from which they had so recently escaped, and were, in turn, hated by those beneath them. A division of society into caste-like classes was taking place. The rich were becoming richer; it was thought the poor were becoming poorer. Free competition imposed no restraints upon the powerful. They were at liberty to exploit the poor to their heart’s content. The strength on the one side was so great, and the capability of resistance on the other so insignificant, that there could exist no real freedom of contract. As Sismondi said, the rich man labored to increase his capital, the poor man to satisfy the cravings of his stomach. The one can wait, the demands of the other are imperative. To the laborers their state appeared like a hell without escape and without end (Mehring). They were prepared to listen to those who should preach them a gospel of hope, even if it involved violent change. Revolution might help them; it could not render their lot more hopeless. They were ready to examine more critically the evils of society, when bidden to do so by their leaders. Verily, they did not need to search long to discover many sore spots on the social body. The luxurious immorality of the parvenus in European capitals made no attempt to conceal itself. When the laborers were told that their wives and daughters were considered rightful booty by the wealthy, they remembered women of their class who had fallen a prey to the fascination of wealth and the elegance of the higher classes, and were angry. The peace of many of them had been ruthlessly destroyed by some rich voluptuary. Perhaps a poor father, thinking of a fair daughter, whose employer in shop or factory had taken advantage of his position and her need to seduce her, gnashed his teeth in rage, and was ready to swear eternal vengeance against the bourgeoisie.[6]

But these things were noticed by the more thoughtful among the higher classes. They were bitterly disappointed. The doctrines of political and economic liberalism had been expected to usher in the millennium, and instead of that they beheld the same wretched, unhappy, sinful world, which they thought they had left. If there had been progress in the general condition of humanity, it was so slight that it was a matter of dispute. Many, finding things in such a sad condition, one so different from what they had expected, affirmed boldly that we had been going from bad to worse.

In speaking of Lamennais, the distinguished French Christian socialist, the Rev. Mr. Kaufmann, an English clergyman, describes the grief that eminent man experienced, as he observed the economic development of society after the great French Revolution:[7] "It was Lamennais’ fate to see three revolutionary waves pass over his country, and to watch with sorrow and bitterness of heart the disappointments to which they gave rise. He had seen the sore distress of the people whose condition the political changes of the first revolution left to all intents and purposes unimproved. It had, in fact, given rise to new social grievances. In destroying patriarchal relationships and feudal bonds of social union, it had handed over the masses to the tender mercies of free contract and competition. The introduction of machinery, with the rise of modern industry, had a pauperizing effect, and intensified popular discontent. Hence the various socialistic and communistic schemes for the liberation of the working-classes from the ‘tyranny of capital,’ and the attempts to promote the free association of labor by means of voluntary co-operation following in the wake of revolution.

"Every section of society was represented in this revolt against the excessive individualism of the laissez-faire system as the result of the new social contract. Among the saviours of society who rose rapidly one after another—Saint-Simon, on the part of aristocratic crétins impoverished by the revolution; Fourier, as the spokesman of the aggrieved lower middle-class, in danger of being crushed by the superior force of the plutocracy; Babœuf, representing the communistic materialism of the ‘common people’—each in their own way had their theories of social reconstruction; ... whilst a small band of generously minded churchmen, with Lamennais at their head, made it their object to save society by means of spiritual regeneration."

A reaction against liberalism set in. This was of two kinds. A romantic party, represented by Adam Müller, and a conservative party, represented by the Kreuzzeitung, advocated a return to the social organization of the Middle Ages. They dreamed of a golden age in the past, in which humble simplicity and trustful dependence on the part of the laborer were met by generous benevolence and protecting care on the part of the master. They thought it possible to restore a time in which the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain, happy and contented because a kind Providence had granted him salt for his potatoes, filled an ideal position.

The communistic and socialistic parties, on the other hand, urged the necessity of an advance to a totally new form of society. Very unlike in many respects, in others these parties resemble and sympathize with each other. The accusations which they bring against our present condition of society are so similar that one often does not know whether one is reading the production of a social democrat or of an ultra-conservative.

I will quote the indictment of the great socialist, Karl Marx, against liberalism, which, it will be seen, might just as well have been written by a conservative. In fact, if I had been shown the passage and told that it appeared in the Kreuzzeitung, I should not have been in the least surprised. Although the liberals, says Marx, have not carried out their principles in any land as yet completely, still, the attempts which have been made are sufficient to prove the uselessness of their efforts. They endeavored to free labor, but only succeeded in subjecting it more completely under the yoke of capitalism; they aimed at setting at liberty all labor powers, and only riveted the chains of misery which held them bound; they wanted to release the bondman from the clod, and deprived him of the soil on which he stood by buying up the land; they yearned for a happy condition of society, and only created superfluity on one hand and dire want on the other; they desired to secure for merit its own honorable reward, and only made it the slave of wealth; they wanted to abolish all monopolies, and placed in their stead the monster monopoly, capital; they wanted to do away with all wars between nation and nation, and kindled the flames of civil war; they wanted to get rid of the state, and yet have multiplied its burdens; they wanted to make education the common property of all, and made it the privilege of the rich; they aimed at the greatest moral improvement of society, and only left it in a state of rotten immorality; they wanted, to say all in a word, unbounded liberty, and have produced the meanest servitude; they wanted the reverse of all that which they actually obtained, and have thus given a proof that liberalism in all its ramifications is nothing but a perfect Utopia.[8]

Before considering separately the different varieties of communism and socialism it is necessary to say a few words about the proper method of treating the subject. The movements indicated by the words communism and socialism are designed to aid especially the lower classes. If mankind generally were as happily situated as are what we call the middle and higher classes, these systems would never have been heard of. The members of the upper classes have nothing to hope from communism or socialism, but have much which they might possibly lose—I say possibly, because I wish to express it in the most favorable manner. If wealthy and well-to-do writers and politicians oppose social reform they are consequently often suspected of advocating their own selfish interests exclusively. They are not likely, therefore, to have much success in converting socialists and communists, unless they manifest in word and deed their sincere concern for the welfare of their poorer brethren. I think, therefore, that we ought to strive first of all to understand thoroughly the various systems of social reformers, and then to describe them in such manner that their supporters themselves could not find fault with our representation. A kindly, well-disposed criticism might follow, with hope of doing some good. To understand people, however, we must have some sort of sympathy (σύν-παθος—Mitleiden) with them. We shall not be likely to comprehend a social system, if we approach it with coldness or, still worse, with hatred. The severe Protestant is not likely to appreciate