^i^;^j^^,>5^^/5^^ KSS^$^gi^^'$i:-§iS^>.il$^^j>:<^^ ,\ ^ohy«rH*«» PERKINS LIBRARY Duke University I^re Books '^^s Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2010 witii funding from Duke University Libraries littp://www.arcliive.org/details/rationalcommunisOOvand RATIONAL COMMUNISM. THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE REPUBLIC OF NORTH AMERICA. By a capitalist. New York: THE TRUTH SEEKER COMPANY, ^T, Clinton Place. 1885. Oopyrlgbted, 1885. V^3f^ CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. INTEODUCTION. Utopian Theories — My Early Teachings — A Lesson Soon Learned — Communism, Humanity — Why I Write — Inequahty — A. Striking Contrast 1-16 CHAPTER II. THE YISION, New Tork Transformed — Pubhc Buildmgs — Dwellings- -Streets and Asylums — Churches and their Concomitants — Schools of Spoliation —Our Standard of Morals — Transformation — Happiness and Con- tent 21-35 CHAPTER III. THE VISION. — CONTINUED. Communitj'-tracts — New York again — Rail and Highway Systems — Changes in tlie Surface of the Whole Continent. — Abolition of Cities 3G-48 CHAPTER IV. PRESENT EXTERNAL APPEARANCE OF OUR REPUBLIC. Spencer and His Teachings— United Effort Indispensable— Functions of a Commercial City — The Contrast — Central Park — An Impor- tant Question — Free Trade a Concomitant of Communism— Courts and Lawj-ers to be Abolished — A General Clearance — Present Aspect of Long Island — Order Disrega'ded— Country Villages- Necessity of Organization— Schoolboy Farming — The Shakers — Oneida— The Benefit of Communal Life — Mississippi Valley as it is — Land Monopoly 49-81 VIH CONTENTS. CHAPTEK V. GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. Election of OEBcers — Puiiishmeut for Offenses — Moral Suasion — A Model Coiunumity — A Few Words from Jefferson— Our Alleged "Universal Suffrage" System— Origin of Slavery — Our Legisla- tive Machinery — The Political Be.l-wether; His Henchmen and their Metliods— The Part the Voters Play— Political Eascaliiy; Extracts from the "Evening Post" and Henry George— Our Par- tisan Press — Our Jury System — Administration of Law — ^The Legislative Mill — Foreign Land Owners — The Great Instigator of Evil, Private Property 82-136 CHAPTER YI. FINANCE. The System of Finance Adopted in the New Republic — The Great Republics of t!'C Globe — Mutual Help — A Change in our Finan- cial System Necessary — Relative Value of Metals — Fictitious Value of Gold — Argument of the Hard-Money Advocate — A Story of King Gold — The God before All Others — Mill on the Money Question — A Proposed Exchange Note — Evils of a Shifting Cur- rency — The Bank-note Fraud — Substitute for Gold — What to Do with Foreign Coin — Credit an Evil 137-1G8 CHAPTER A'll. PUBLIC IMPROVEMENTS. Proper Functions of a State — Mr. Spencer's Definition — Individual Effort: Its Residt — What Mr. Spencer's Proposition Involves — Railroad Adventures — How Stock is Manipulated — Competing Lines and Excessive Rates — Mr. Mill's Method of Restricting Charges — Corruption Lender Corporate Management — An Evil without a Remed}' — Why the Republican Party Lost Power in 1884 — Functions Improperly Assumed by the State — Morals and Religion — Prohibition of the Liquor Traffic— Free Trade and Pro- tection — Chinese Restriction — Interest — Usury — How Did Vander- bilt Get His Fortune? — The Money-Getting Talent — My Position on the Subject of Property Defined 1G9-200 CONTENTS. IX CHAPTER YIIL PRODUCTION AND DISTRIBUTION. Distribution in tlie New Republic — Fixing Prices — Disadvantages of Competition — Our Hit-or-Miss Production— Isolated Farming — An Excess of Manufacturing Facilities — The Argument for Competi- tion — Effect of Overproduction on Prices — Waste in Manufacture and Distribution — How Competition Enhances Cost. — Effect of Com- petition on Character — Human Sollisliness Encouraged — Charity — Why Men Succeed or Fail — Real Heroes — Bankruptcy — Extract from Louis Blanc 201-236 CHAPTER IX. EDUCATION. Theologians and the Theologic Age — The First Object of Education — Tlie Art of Expressioii — A Universal Language — The Time for Teaching to Begin — Composition — Defects of Our Schools and Uni- versities — Inefficient Text-books — Evils of Over-study — Physi- ology and Hygiene — The History of Man — Unjust Discrimination in Our Schools — Libraries in the New Republic — Higlier Universi- ties — Compulsory Education a Duty — Mistaken Callings — Possibili- ties of Human Achievement 237-272 CHAPTER X. MORALITY AND RELIGION. Spencer on the Growtli of the Moral Sentiment — Christ as a Moralist — Obstacles to Morality — Effect of Theology on Morals — Bible Sup- port of Wrongs — Skepticism as a Moral Influence — Private Property in the Way of Morality — What the Work-People Know — Deceit — How Great Fortunes are Acquired — All Men Should Earn Their Living—The Root of All Evil— What Jesus Thought of Private Property— Charity — The Ruling Passion— Moral Standard of the New Republic— God and Religion 273-305 CHAPTER XI. MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. Diverse Views on the Question — The Hand of the Church Again — Empty Pledges- Law and Marriage- Attempts to Coerce Affection — Mill's Two Great Questions— TIio Children Question — iroral Cipliers— The Unhappily Married Should Be Given a Second Chance, X CONTENTS. or Even a Tliinl— Dirihonoriug the Marriage Relation— A Word from Milton— Liberal Divorce Laws— A Proper Marriage Contract — Necessity of Ciieci\ing Popnlation — How to Make Mankind Bet- ter— Onr Fallen Sisterhood — IIow to Reclaim Them— Unjust Public Sentiment 306-337 CHAPTER XII. LIFE IN THE NEW REPUBLIC. Routine of the Day — Work, Pliiy, and Entertainment— Transaction of Business— Agriculture and Mechanics— Dress— Hours of Leisure — Bureau of Statistics— Invention and Art — Debating Clubs — Conver- sations—Free Speech — Amusements and Recreations — The Museum — Indoor and vOutdoor Games — Facilities for Traveling - Communism in the Country — Piscatorial Sports— Honor: How Attained — Crime Abolished — Under the One True Sovereign — An Old Acquaintance Recalled -Close of the Vision 338-3GG CHAPTER XIII. LIFE IN THE EXISTING REPUBLIC. Caste— How We Live — Caste No. 1 — Extravagance as Related to Trade —The Situation of the Rich Reviewed— Wealth without Happiness The Millionaire in Politics— Influence of Wealth on the Poor- Youths Ruined by Money The Criterion of Generosity— Caste No. 2— Extravagance to Preserve Appearances- Tlie Middle-Class in the Country — Farm Life: Its Hardships -Caste No. 3- The Tlicological Idea — Our Responsibility — Patriotism — Brutalizing Effect of the Private Property System 307—118 CHAPTER XIV. EXAMINATION OF THE OBJECTIONS TO COMMUNISM. Mill on Socialism -Inequalities of Labor- Change of Employment— Sup- pression of Individuality— Importance of Free Thougiit- Influence of Public Opinion — Communism not Inimical to Freedom — Mr. Spencer on Communism— Tlie Rightof Property — A Quotation from Locke — Mr. Spencer's Verdict— Survival of the Fittest— An Erro- neous View of Evolution 419-460 CONTENTS. Xi CHAPTER XV. METHODS PROrOSED FOR THE TRANSITION FROM THE SYS- TEM OF INDIVIDUAL PROPERTY TO A SYSTEM OF COLLECTIVE PROPERTY. Yioleuce Deprecated — Henry George's Methods Examined— Trades Unions and Co-operation Tiie Y'ellow Spritio-s CommL,nity: "Wiiy it Failed —Ilaverstraw, Coxsackie, Kendal, Oneida, New Harmony, Brook Farm, and Other Communities— Messrs. Frothingliam, Dana, Greele}', and Others Quoted— Plan for a Pioneer Community— Prop- erty, Land, Members, and Officers— Difficulties— Dress— Let the Work be Begun 4G 1-493 CHAPTEE XVI. DANGER. The Great Cause of Contention— Premonitions of a Revolt— Sometln"nc to be Done— Living in the Future 494-498 THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE REPUB- LIC OF NORTH AMERICA. CHAPTER I. INTEODUCTION. As THE wonderful things wliicli I propose to relate in this work Avere presented to me in the form of a vision, I shall first endeavor to set the reader right concerning any predilection which I may have had in favor of dreams or visions. And I will make this explanation short by simply stating that I have here- tofore lield all such experiences as of little conse- quence ; rarely having considered them of sufficient importance to be worth relating, or listening to when related by others ; regarding them, in fact as but the hallucinations which naturally arise from an overburdened stomach or an overworked or dis- eased brain. I would also inform the reader, at the outset, that what I am about to relate is intimately connected Avith, and decidedly in the interest of, that most un- popular and detested of all theories at the present day, namely, Commuuism, or the system of collective property. Those so bigoted that they do not wish to read or hear anj-thing adverse to our existing property system Avill, of course, throw the book aside 14 UTOPLVN THEORIES. here, thus saving the waste of their time and the ruffling of their tempers ; but those who are less prejudiced, who hesitate, perhaps, but are still in- clined to read, hear, and weigh both sides of this question, I would remind of the fact that heretofore many tlieories have arisen against which there has been at first quite as bitter an opposition as now prevails against Communism, and which have finally been demonstrated to be true. Since the time of Sir Thomas More, theories in advance of the current ideas of the day have been contemptuously styled Utopian ; but history clearly shows that all the great changes which have thus far taken place in the world, resulting in human prog- ress, have been foreshadowed and set in motion by what were at first termed Utopian or ideal follies. Since mankind have been continually making such mistakes in the ])ast, is it not just possible that their political, industrial, and social S3^stems have not as 3'et reached absolute perfection, and that better sys- tems for the regulation of societ}^ maj' still be de- A'ised than those now in vogue '? Here, I trust, a few words in regard to myself may be excused, as showing with how little sympathy I at one time in my life regarded this hated Communism. My early life was passed in one of the ruggedest portions of New England, where to wrench a living from the soil Avas no child's play. Being one of a numerous family, who were obliged to conquer a livelihooil, it will not be doubted, I think, that, if my early education was deficient in other particulars, I liad the opportunity of being well schooled in habits of industry and frugalit}-. Amid surroundings where- MY EAELY TEACHINGS. 15 in tlie bare necessities of life are secured only by a constant struggle, rest assured, if the boy is fully developed in no other particular, he is thoroughly schooled in the art of taking care of himself. The typical New England farmer of fifty years ago was not insensible to the advantages of a good education for his children ; but, paramount to this, and what the boy had strongly enforced upon his mind, was the importance of some day securing for himself a com- petence. Such were the teachings of my 3'outh — wealth first and most important ; though, in justice to the memory of my parents, I would state that these impressions were instilled into my mind more from my general surroundings than from any direct teach- ings of such a character by them. Such was the apex of desire fixed by my early education, and I will venture to assert that such is the summit of the ambition of nine-tenths of the male population of our country to-day at the age of twenty-one years ; nor is such an ambition unnatural, and perhaps not discreditable, so long as tliis fierce competition in our industrial sjstem exists and receives the sanction of the age. However high we may extol moral virtues or intellectual attainments, the chief aim of the mul- titude, under our competitive-property system, must ever be to supph' their physical wants. My own experience I believe to be the experience of the multitude in our country who have entered the arena of business life dependent upon their own exertions, their judgment, and their wit for their success. I will therefore frankly express here what my experience has been; then let others compare the same with their own, and see how widely they differ. 16 A LESSON SOON LEARNED. I have already stated the bent of my ambition when, in early life, I left the family home, Avhich had already grown too contracted for my aspirations, and sallied forth in the almost unknown world to })luck the golden crown which I fancied would se- cure to me comtort, respect, power, and, in after life, ease — perhaps honor. Confiding and unsophisti- cated, my first experiences did not tend to favor the supreme object of my ambition; but keeping that object ever prominently in view, the lessons learned bj' my early mishaps subsequently became beneficial to me. I soon found that telling the ^cllole truth in a busi- ness transaction was what is termed in common business parlance being " green and unsophisti- cated." I learned, too, that the sure indication of a weak mind, according to public sentiment, was the harboring of any compunction of conscience about living in luxury and enjoying a superabundance of material blessings, while our fellow-beings, either from natural disqualifications or adverse circum- stances, were forced to eke out a miserable existence in destitution and wretchedness. In a word, I learned that the current standard of good conduct Avas for each to look out for himself, regardless of the rights and happiness of others, save oulj- to keep within the letter of the law. It is unnecessary to trouble the reader further with my personal experiences. From the acknowl- edgment which I here make of the adoption of the above currentlv accepted business projmeties as the rule and guide of my life, it will be readily dis- covered how slight, at the commencement of my WHY I WKITE. 17 business career, must have been my sj-rapathies with Communism, or, I might say, Avith Humanity also, for I now regard these two words as being so close- ly connected as to be in a sense synon3mous. A change, however, in my business situation, which gave more time and opportuuity for observation, study, and reflection upon these matters, worked no little alteration in my views, as will become apparent in these pages. There is still another explanation, which it may be as well to lay before the reader. "With the confession Avliich I have made of my early limited advantages for education, and of my active business life during a term of many years — which still prevented my acquiring anything like what is termed a liberal education — the learned wall very naturally inquire how it is that I am possessed with the unwarrantable assurance of attempting to inflict upon mankind another book. To such a question, which I acknowledge would be well put, I have only to reply that I write because I have something I wish to say ; and should that something be lacking in in- terest, or should it not be as well said as others might say it, no one is compelled to read my work. But never, perhaps, on any occasion, has human being felt a deeper sense of resj^onsibility than that which actuates the writer as he attempts to portray to his fellow-beings that wonderful vision of futurity which has been so majestically presented to his gaze. Bright and glorious as the youth's reflection upon the events of a gladsome fete-day does the vision in all its grandeur now rise up before me ; and so deep has it impressed itself upon my mind, that it can 18 INEQU.VLITY. never be effaced, or even dimmed, -while raiml and memory last. I am urged on by a powerful impulse to impart Avhat I have learned, and 3'et I hesitate, feel- ing k(!enly my inability to so present the matter that it may fall upon the minds of my fellow-men with that ])ower which its importance appears to me to demand. I have, however, come to regard the per- formance of the task as the execution of a trust, so I must not let the admonition pass unheeded. Un- heeded, did I say? Unheeded it could not pass, for whether divulged to my fellow-beings or not, I have the clearest conviction that the lifelike scenes, the seeming realities, the glorious future of humanity, so vividly laid open to my senses during the ten con- secutive and eventful nights of my vision, must hence- forth reign uppermost in one mind, at least, while life shall last. The contemplation is so sweet, how- ever, that I would not have it depart. The vision I have beheld has added new zest and given a new charm to my life, while by it my faith has been strengthened in the ultimate happy destiny of man- kind upon the Earth. I would further premise that, for a few days prior to the occurrence of what I am about to relate, the injustice of mankind toward his fellows, and the inequality of the race on earth, had been to me the causes of much reflection, and of no little mental agony. On the night of the commencement of my vision (June, 1880), I retired at my usual hour, almost utterl}' dejected, hopeless and Avretched. I had vis- ited on that day some of the precincts peopled by the most abject and destitute of our city's jjoor. I had A STRIKING CONTRAST. 19 looked once more in anguish of heart upon their po-verty, squah^r, degradation, and other miseries; had observed the emaciated form, the hollow eye, and the sunken cheek, and, more than all these, had heard again that most pitiable and deplorable of all the signs of distress — the long-drawn sigh of hope- less despair. Making more apparent and striking the contrast, I had also witnessed in the afternoon of that same day what to me Avas quite an unusual spectacle at the opposite verge of the social horizon. I had been a spectator at a fashionable wedding in one of our Christian churches, whose pastor and people, para- doxical as it may appear, professed to take the meek and lowly Jesus of Nazareth as the example of their lives. Arrayed in gorgeous robes, and sparkling with the most brilliant and costly of gems, these " meek and lowly " followers of the Nazarene presented a most striking contrast to that destitution I had just before witnessed ; and the unequal condition of my fellow-beings on earth became more than usually apparent to my mind, putting it into that dejected and wretched condition to Avhicli I have referred upon my retirement for rest and sleep. Such Avas my condition upon that memo- rable night when I beheld a vision of Earth the most marvelous in magnitude, resplendent in beauty, and sublime in grandeur. On the succeeding morning I awoke bathed in a profuse perspiration, and with the whole night's scene as vivid before my mind as any reality I have ever witnessed. All that day I wandered abstractedly about, not being able to concentrate my thoughts upon aught but the glories I had witnessed 20 CONTINUATION OF THE VISION. in my dream. My family rallied mo upon my ab- straction, but I did not divulge the cause, changing the subject to the best of my ability. I retired the following night, anxious and excited, as may be read- ily imagined, for, while feeling quite confident that the vision would reappear, I nervously dreaded its return ; and yet the thought that it might not was hardly endurable. Feverish from excitement, I lay for some time wakeful, but tlie day's musings having been exhausting, Nature at last asserted her power, sleep came, and again I found myself in the very midst of that gorgeous scene which I had quitted so suddenly when I aAvoke in the morning, while the same smiling face was there also to bid me welcome that had accompanied me throughout my previous night's wanderings. Another night passed amid scenes ever-changing but glorious, every moment of the time being crowded with matters the most in- tensely interesting and absorbing. So passed ten consecutive nights and days ; the nights with a con- tinuance of the vision, the days in abstracted re- flections of mingled pleasure and astonishment. Each of these nights was to me as years, so pregnant with life, so much did my eyes behold, so vast a field of knowledge was opened to my understanding. Three months have elapsed before I find myself in a condition to commence a relation of what I experi- enced upon those memorable nights, yet ever}'" scene in these visions, every word and thought communi- cated, is as clear and fresh before my mind now as then. In the following chapters I shall furnish the reader, so far as I am capable, with a minute and particular narration of what I beheld. CHAPTEK 11. THE YISION. My first exj^erience was that of being suspended in the air, about a thousand feet above the city of my home — New York. By what means I was there suspended I know not — certainly by nothing A'isible — and yet it did not appear to me at the time as at all unnatural or strange. By my side stood a sweet-faced, venerable old man, whose long, snow-white locks fell upon his shoulders, and a full white beard floated upon his breast. He wore a long robe, or gown, of snow}- whiteness, which completely enveloped his person, except the feet, which were bare. His robe was but- toned under the chin, and tied with a white cord about the waist. This completed his toilet, so far as I could observe. Though ever present, accompany- ing me in all my wanderings, he seldom spoke. He directed my attention at times by gestures, but that Avliich it would seem he desired me to observe and understand came to me as by intuition. I felt, while in his presence, no overwhelming sense of contact with a being superhuman, neither did instantaneous flight to and from portions of country far remote, which I often experienced, or in fact anything Avhich I beheld or which occurred during my vision, at the time, appear to me strange or wonderful, but all 21 22 NEW YORK TRANSFORMED. seemed natural and normal as tlie daily avocations and experiences to which I had been accustomed. Neither did this first exclamation from the happy- faced old man: "Come with me, and I will show 3'ou the Republic of tlie Future," fall strangely upon my ear. I felt as a child or a pupil might feel Avho is about to be taught great things in the most natural manner possible. Upon making the explanation as given above, the old man pointed below. I looked as he directed, and magnificent indeed was the scene that met my eyes. Across the waters of the bay I gazed, with the Jersey shore extending along my right, over on the green fields and hills of Staten Island and down through the Narrows, until the white-caps of Old Ocean fell upon my view ; then tracing the shore of Long Island, on my left, past the city which lay spread out beneath my feet, far up along the narrow waters of the Sound to the northeast, I gazed in wonder. Turning, with my face to the north, and tracing the noble old Hudson up along the line of the Palisades, suddenly a light flashed upon my mind, and excitedly I broke forth with the excla- mation: "It is — it is New York; but oh! hoAv changed!" I will now give a description of the beautiful metamorphosed city Avliich lay spread out before my eyes. I shall confine my description, however, for the present, principally to the external appearance of the city as it presented a bird's-eye view from my point of observation; noting further on other impor- tant matters which, I trust, may be of interest to the reader. I shall be particular in describing the gen- EXTERNAL APPEAEANCE. 23 eral plan and construction of the city, as it appeared to me from my aerial point of observation, for tlie reason that, except with some differences required by its natural construction, I found New York to be almost a counterpart of all the other cities of the Kepublic. Extending in a semicircular form around the lower portion of the island, up about as far as would mark the two extremities, if extended from river to river, of what is now Canal street, were erected stone piers of the most substantial- masonry, alongside of which lay moored, as now, the shipping from every portion of the globe. A street one hundred feet wide, stone-paved in the most substantial manner (as were all the streets in the business portion of the city), extended around the entire semicircle ad- joining these stone piers. Along the inner circle of this street (except at intervals of two hundred feet, through which ran cross-streets fifty feet in width) were warehouses in solid blocks, four stories high and one hundred feet deep, built wholly of brick. Along the rear of these warehouses ran another street fifty feet in width, and then came another line of warehouses jDrecisely like those in front, which extended also around the entire semicircle contig- uous to the piers. Along the inner circle of the last-mentioned ware- houses ran a street two hundred feet in width. Railway tracks extended around the entire semi- circle through all the streets, and cars were run along beside the warehouses for the purpose of loading and unloading. The lower portion of the area of this semicircle, within the inner line of the 24 PUBLIC BUILDINGS. streets, was occupied for railway purposes, the works covering several acres of ground. Here were pas- senger and freight depots, engine and car-houses, machine shops, and all the paraphernalia requisite for the outfit and prosecution of this important enterprise. Near what is now the northwest corner of City Hall Park stood an immense granite building four stories high called Commerce Hall. I would state that while various kinds of material were used for the con- struction of the public buildings, all others were built invariably of brick. No prescribed mode of architect- ure was followed in the construction of the public buildings ; gracefulness and elegance of style were un- doubtedly sought for, but utility and durability were never sacrificed to show. Some thirty rods east of Commerce Hall was another large building called the Sailors' Home, and a home it was, indeed, for the gallant tars assembled from around the broad earth. At a point near what is now West Broadway and Canal street were clus- ters of school buildings. The remaining portion of the area within the semicircle formed by the streets and warehouses before described, both below Com- merce Hall and above, extending to what is now called Canal street, was covered by a garden, which, as it appeared upon my first view, blooming in the bright sunshine of a June morning, might well vie in glory with that ever-memorable garden of old which has been so glowingly described by the poets. Further on I shall again take occasion to refer to this garden, when I shall picture it more minutely to the reader. SCIENCE HALL. 25 Along the northern border of the garden — that is, along what is now called Canal street — ran an avenue two hundred feet wide, reaching from river to river, called Park avenue, on either side of which, at inter- vals of one hundred feet, as also through the center, extended a row of magnificent old elms. Above Park avenue, embraced within the area of a line at right- angles with this street, the eastern boundary being near what is now called the Bowery, and the western bound- ary near Hudson street, and extending north as far as Avhat is now Forty-second street, stood the dwellings and many of the public buildings of the city. In the center of a plot of ground containing one acre, con- tiguous to Park avenue, and on a line a little east of what is now Broadway, stood a four-story structure occupied for post, telegraph, and telephone offices. Adjoining this to the west, on a plot of ground of the same dimensions, stood the Museum, a large, four-story building also. Across the street, directly north of the two buildings last-named, on plots of ground containing also one acre each, stood a theater, and a public library building which contained a large public hall and reading-rooms. The grounds about all the above-named buildings were beautifully laid out and adorned with shrubs and flowers. Cross- ing the street above the last-described grounds and buildings, we came to the grounds of Science Hall, an elegant and capacious granite edifice four stories high. The grounds aliout this magnificent structure occupied an area of many acres, laid out in beautiful lawns, shaded with majestic old trees, and embel- lished with the choicest flowering shrubs and plants. On the opposite side of the street, still north above 26 SCHOOL BUILDINGS. Science Hall, was located another theater and an opera house. These buildings liad each an area of one acre of ground allotted them, also, Avliich was elegantly laid out and adorned (as were, for that mat- ter, the grounds about all the public buildings and dwellings of the city), with well-kept walks and grass plots, as Avell as trees, shrubs, and flowers in great variety and beauty. Still above the latter-mentioned buildings, north, and each in its allotted space of one acre, we find two more public edifices: one the Art Gal- lery, and the other a second library building, -with reading-rooms, lecture halls, etc. North of these again, on the same line, was a cluster of school build- ings constructed upon a more extensive scale than those before mentioned, including as they did the higher universities of the cit}'. Other clusters of school buildings were also located among the dwell- ings at each side of the area, on which the public buildings stood, al)out on a line with what is now Twenty-third street. To make tlio schools in the highest degree efficient no expense was spared either in the construction of buildings or in their working appointments. Differ- ent buildings represented the several grades, from the primar}' to the highest university degree. Ample space of ground was assigned to each of these build- "ings, a portion of which was set off for playgrounds and athletic games, and another portion for shady lawns, etc. The school buildings, which I men- tioned as lying north of the Art Gallery and Library, extended up to what was called College avenue, near where is our present Forty-second street. To the east and Avest of the area on which were DWELLINGS. 27 erected the public buildings, stood, as I have said, tlie dwellings. These faced beautifully-shaded streets, one hundred and fifty feet wide and macadamized, as were all the streets in the city except those men- tioned as stone-paved, fronting the warehouses. To each dwelling was assigned two acres of ground, and that portion not occupied by the buildings was laid out partly in fruit and flower gardens and partly in lawns for the purpose of recreation and exercise in sucli games as croquet, lawn tennis, archery, and other pleasant outdoor diversions. The dwellings were four stories high, and of ample capacity for the accommodation of from two hundred to three hundred people. Their general construc- tion was all after one model, an extension running back at right-angles from each end of the main or front building, leaving a court within which opened to the grounds in the rear. A wide piazza, roofed, and upon a level with the first or ground floor, extended entirely around the building. On tli3 ground floor were large parlors, reception rooms, a large dining-hall, and also read- ing, smoking, and billiard rooms. On the second and third floors the rooms were large and airy, and constructed mostly in suites, with a view to family convenience and privacy. The fourth floor avhs divided into smaller apartments, suited for one or two in- dividuals. These dwellings were lighted by gas and heated by steam, as were also the public buildings. To the east and west of the dwellings were market houses, buildings assigned to the mechanical trades, printing-offices, etc. Behind these were stables, and, back of these still, vegetable and fruit gardens, ex- 28 STREETS AND ASYLUMS. tending down to the river on each side of the city. Along the East river, above Park avenue, were the docks where vessels were repaired, and opposite, along the North river side, were large grain eleva- tors. Commencing at a point on- College avenue, near what is now Third avenue, was a street of un- surpassed magnificence, two hundred feet wide, which extended in a semicircular form around the whole upper end of the island, intersecting College avenue again at a point in a line with what is now Ninth avenue. Central avenue, a street of the same width and beauty as Grand avenue, commenced at a point on College avenue midway between the two lower termini of Grand avenue, and ran north nearly through the center of the island, intersecting Grand avenue at the extreme northern arc of the semi- circle. Cross-streets connecting Grand avenue on each side were laid out at intervals of half a mile. Grand and Central avenues were each divided into three sections, one hundred feet in the center being macadamized for general driving, fifty feet adjoining made suitable for fast driving, and fifty feet on the opposite side of the main drive was for equestrian purposes Between these divisions Avere rows of hedge, and at each outer side Avas a row of shade-trees. At the northeast corner of College and Central avenues stood a Deaf and Dumb Asylum, and' oppo- site, on the nortliAvest corner of the above-mentioned avenues, an Asylum for the Blind. On Central avenue, north of the latter building, was a Hospital, to which ample space was afibrded, and the grounds of Avhich were adorned in the usual manner. East of the Deaf and Dumb Asylum and the Hos-- CHURCHES AND THEIR CONCOMITANTS. 29 pital, running to Grand avenue, were several acres appropriated for exercise and play grounds. West of the Blind Asylum, in the area between Central and Grand avenues, was a monster Eiding Academy. Within the semicircle of Grand avenue, at the ex- treme upper portion of the island, was the City Cemetery. Adjoining this, south, and extending for a mile or so, Avas a Avood stretching from river to river. High Bridge and the reservoirs in the Central Park remained as now, the little lakes now in the park also. The remaining portion of the island not men- tioned particularly here was devoted principally to agriculture. I have now given, I think, a tolerabl}' fair outline of the general construction and appearance of the city. I saw, from my elevated point of observation, people laboring in the fields, walking and riding in the streets, playing and strolling in the gardens, while everything wore the appearance of animated life ; and as for order, regularity, and beauty, nothing which I have ever witnessed in the laying out and construction of a city bears any comparison to it. Such was New York, and such substantially was the scene I beheld, where our city now stands, upon the first night of my vision. , It will be asked, perhaps, Where were the churches, the prisons, the court buildings, etc.? some thinking, perchance, that I have forgotten these. No, I have not forgotten them; there were none, and no need for them. Crime was unknown, and mankind had 30 DIFFERING METHODS OF SPOLIATION. learned that temples for religious worship exclusively were needless. We did not descend into the city the first night of my vision, but after taking the bird's-eye view of the city, which has now been outlined, we passed on in our explorations ; and what I further beheld will be described in a succeeding chapter. The reader will now pardon a short digression, I trust, to enable the writer to speak briefly of that famous spot upon which stood the beautiful garden of his vision. It is to this spot only as the seat of one of those famous Schools of Spoliation of which our world, under the Private Property system, is now so prolific, and to what appertained to that school, that my remarks will be confined. Through the establishment of this school there arose upon the site of the beautiful garden of my vision a conglomeration of so much that would have been uncalled for under a proper order of things ; so much that was hideous to the sight ; so much that was iniquitous and revolting to the nobler instincts of the human soul. The whole area upon which stood the garden of my vision had formerly been occupied by huge and often unseemly piles of brick and mortar, iron and stone, put up to-da}- to be torn down to-morrow, with a sacrifice of labor which is simply incalculable. Side by side with the stately edifices and the luxurious surroundings v/herein the shrewd banker, railway magnate, or merchant, concocted his schemes for spoliation upon a huge scale, and in a manner re- garded as very respectable, stood the rum-shop, the gambling-house, the brothel, and every other con- WHAT THE SCHOOL TAUGHT. 31 ceivable vile den, Avliere the art of spoliation was practiced upon wholly unscrupulous principles ; and so while the higher classes flourished here by fleec- ing their victims in the most approved style, the gambler took a shorter cut to the accomplishment of the same object ; the rum-seller throve by the sale of his poisons ; the courtesan walked the streets shamelessly plying her vocation ; the burglar made bold strikes for his booty ; and the assassin, lurking in dark places, gained his ends by the death of his victim. Upon this very spot were gathered together, age after age, tens and hundreds of thousands of human beings Avhose chief object it was to raise themselves to affluence and power at the expense of society at large. It may be safely asserted that no school wliich it Avas ever in the power of man to devise could have been more efficient than this for sharpening the wits of mankind, and developing to the highest attainable degree all the " pure cussedness " there is in human nature. Talk of shrewdness, cunning, wariness, and desperation ! Why, no fox ever approached the hen- roost with lighter footsteps, watched more warily the movements of his intended victim, or pounced upon him at the favored opportunity with greater celerity or fury, than the merest freshman in this celebrated School for acquiring the arts of Spoliation approached his fellow-man, cautiously bided his time until the vantage ground was his, and then made sliort work of stripping his victim of his property. For specious arts of cunning and deceit; for petty modes of getting the better of their fellows ; for bold and far-reaching schemes of adventure, whereby prodigious wealth was brought into their cofters ; for covering their black 32 THE TRANSFORMATION. deeds beneath robes of religious sanctity ; and for petty crime, as well for the most bold, defiant, black- hearted, and desperate villainy, no people upon the face of the earth, probably, have ever excelled those educated in this famous school. Manj-, ingenious, and subtle were the waj's devised and resorted to by the higher classes for appropriating to themselves the fruits of toil. Bat the lower classes, more op- pressed by immediate wants, less shrewd or prudent, perhaps, or regarding somewhat contemptuously the hypocritical measures resorted to b}- the higher classes in their process of spoliation, were inclined to be more direct in their appropriations ; hence they often foiTnd themselves within the clutches of the law, a position which the higher classes were usually suc- cessful in avoiding. And so here, in this efficient university of vice, Avas generated in countless thousands every description of the most debased and Avretched of human char- acters, who made not only the precincts upon which rests our lovely garden a very hell upon earth, but forth from their iniquitous surroundings issued in huge swjirms the most desperate of wretches, to roam and practice their villainies over the wide world. Behold now the change ! Here, in my vision, the birds sing, and the squirrels gambol in the branches of majestic oaks, whose ivy-bound trunks have with- stood the north wind's blast for ages. Here the graceful elm, with branches spreading wide, casts its shadow on the close-cropped lawn, and beneath its shade rests many a peaceful soul Avhiling the happy hours away. Here, also, are a few noble specimens of the white pine, stretching their lofty tops high A NEW EDEN. 33 up into the blue vault which overarches them, while, amid their branches, the soft winds whisper and sigh in fitting response to the whispers and sighs of the lovers that sit beneath. The silver-leafed maple, too, is here, besides many other varieties of native forest trees that are exceedingly grace- ful and beautiful. Here, also, are exotics, some few even of a tropical origin, notably the magnolia and the palmetto, denoting that our climate has changed alike with our city. And beneath this can- opy of noble forest trees is laid out with the most exquisite taste velvety lawns, traversed by elegant walks, bordered with flowering shrubs and plants of almost endless variety, which, at the time of my vision, were clothed in all their glory. Statues, not of great warriors who had acquired temporary re- nown through the slaughter of their fellow-men, but of noble men and Avomen, who lived and died in by- gone days to better the condition of their kind, stand here and there upon many a favored site. Fountains of exquisite beauty are also a notable feature of our garden, while frequently may be seen the light cas- cade, so skilfuly designed and executed as to vie in handiwork with njlture itself. Above, below, and on the spot where once the som- ber prison rose, a ])lacid lake lies shimmeringbeneath the bright sun's raj-s, while softly over its rippling waves floats many a tiny craft with happy mortals laden low, avIio throw their banners to the breeze, while sounds of merry voices strike the ear, and strains of music soft and sweet rise up in mingled melody and float awa}' upon the summer air. Yes, this upon the very spot where once the dolor- 34 HAPPINESS AND CONTENT. ous " Tombs " so oft had closed her massive gates, and slid their bolts, against the sunshine, peace, joy, and hope of sorrowing man. The very spot this is where once the gallows had been reared, and bar- barous laws had ruthlessly deprived man of that which is not his to give or justly to take, making the crime a doiible one — the murderer's and the people's. Thank heaven, such scenes of horror and of woe have long gone by — have passed away with the pri- vate property system, the wretched mother that gave them birth. Such, in brief, are a few of the leading character- istics of our garden, a more extended description of which I must refrain from giving here. But there was still another charm attending it, more glorious than all that art could produce, which may not be passed unnoticed. I refer to the indications, yes, in truth, the univer- sal assurances, of happiness and content, which made themselves so apparent upon every hand. Theie was not observable in all this assembled throng the slight- est evidence of poverty or want ; not a slovenlj- or poorlj'-clad individual was to be met. Nor was there any outward show of extravagance in .apparel, or of individual magnificence in any form. Neither was there manifested any sign of self-aggrandizement, nor of self-abasement in any manner whatever. All asso- ciated upon terms of mutual respect and equalit}'. Nor was there any sign of intemperance, of wan- tonness, of slothfulness, of injustice, of inhumanity — in short, of any impropriety or evil of any kind whatever. All things, in truth, bore the most un- mistakable evidence that mankind had at length THE CAUSE. 35 attained that high altitude of human possibility in which the soul may rest in peace. Human beings now looked into the faces of their kind confidingly, trustfully, lovingly. There was no longer any wrong to be concealed, or anything of which one might be ashamed or afraid, for mankind were honest and jDure. I need not go further. As the glimpse of an earthly Paradise and of a perfect society has now been par- tially foreshadowed, here I shall leave my Eden to the contemplation of my readers. But would the reader ask for the crtw.se of the won- derful change tliat had taken place in the great metro- politan city of the Western Hemisphere ? It may be given in a sentence. It was the abolition of the system of Individual Property, and the devising, in- stituting, and establishing in its stead of a property system which made justice between man and man not only possible, but the interest and pleasure of each and all. CHAPTEK III. THE \T:SI0N.^ — CONTINUED. Having taken a bird's-eye survey of New York, we now commence our aerial flight to the east. Passing over the East River, I observed that where now stands the city of Brooklyn, as throughout all Long Island, were charming fields of grass and grain, with groups of buildings here and there, half hidden by grand old trees, while flowers innumerable, and of many a varied hue, lit up and crowned the glorious scene. A double-track railway ran through the center of the island as far as Biverhead; the tracks diverging here, one running to the northern and the other to the southern extremity of the two forks of the island. Prominent highways running north and south, east and west, and crossing at right-angles at a uniform distance of three miles, extended, wherever practical, throughout the entire area of the island. These roads, which were macadamized and in excellent condition, were shaded by trees at regular distances and bordered by hedges. Midway between these more prominent highways, and running parallel with them, were inferior roads, constructed for convenience in reaching the lands. Each tract of land of three miles square belonged to a comraunitv, the dwellings and other buildings of COMMUNITY-TRACTS. 37 which were grouped in the center at the intersection of the principal highways. A portion of each of these community-tracts was set off to forest, while here and there, whei'e practi- cable tlirough natural adaptation, shone the bright waters of some little artificial lake. With these exceptions, the whole area of the island was now devoted to agricultural j^urposes, and was cultivated on scientific principles. Under an intelligent system of irrigation, even the now apparent barren pine-lands had been made fairly productive. Here was now presented to my eye, in the vision, a scene of beauty, order, and thrift, as yet unparal- leled upon the earth, and all of Avliich had been the legitimate result of regulating industrial enterprises under a harmonious system of human forethought, design, and intelligence. Extending our aerial flight eastward, my eyes wan- dered continually over vast fields of grass and grain, now Avaving gently in the summer's breeze, the rich- liued corn, in long, straight rows, bending gracefully to earth, while the many other varieties of vegetable productions, flourishing luxuriantly, lent interest and beauty to the scene. The order and beauty of the landscape, divided into equal areas by the high- ways, and bordered by trees and hedges ; the patches of forest and the shining lakes; the elegance of the community buildings, and the taste in which the grounds were laid out and decorated about them — gave to all the land the finish and the beauty of an immense but exquisiteh* designed and highly culti- vated garden. 38 COMMUNITY-GROUPS. I will now describe the community-groups or clus- ters of buildings that rose up before my eyes, which were substantial copies of the multitudinous com- munity-groups that now dotted the whole land. Occupying the most prominent and eligible posi- tion within an angle of the two principal highways, stood the community dwelling, which was modeled and laid out in grounds precisely like those of the community dwellings I have already described as seen in the city of New York. On a corner opposite the dwelling in each community-group stood a build- ing called Library Hall. About four acres of ground was usually appropri- ated to its purposes, a space of one hundred feet m front on each street being tastefully laid out in walks and lawns, and decorated with flowering shrubs and plants. The grounds back were set off partly for exercise and play-grounds, and partly for garden- lawn, amid which wound serpentine walks bordered ■with flowering shrubs and plants, while here and there some noble forest-tree provided ample shade. Library Hall, wdiich was built of brick, as were the country-buildings generally, dift'ered somewhat in size in the different communities, according to the numbers of the community-members. It was invariably built after one model, however, with post, telegraph, and telephone ofiices, and a library and reading-room, on the first floor ; and a lecture-hall, which had also its stage for theatrical performances, on the floor above. On a corner opposite Library Hall was the School building, with ample grounds, which were appropri- atelv laid out and decorated with much elegance. NEW YORK AGAIN. 39 On the remaininc; corner was a building assigned to mechanical purposes, in which were apartments for the carpenter, mason, painter, blacksmith, wheel- wright, harness-maker, etc., etc. A little to the rear, in each group, was also a building, assigned to some sort of manufacturing purpose, to afford employment to the community members during inclement weather, and at such portions of the year as they could not be profitably employed in agricultural pursuits. Beside the above-mentioned buildings, there were also Ample barns and stables built upon the most approved plan ; and now and then among the group might be seen a steam-mill for grinding grain. Such was the community-group; and for beauty of design, elegance of construction, neatness, conven- ience, and utility in all its appointments, no village of the present day would begin to bear a favorable com- parison with it. I have been somewhat particular in describing the scene which met my view upon Long Island, as the general plan laid out and fol- lowed was substantially the same as that which marked every other portion of the New Republic. Of course, the whole land was not laid out with the same regularity as was the island, for there were mountains, lakes, and rivers to prevent; but in so far as this general plan was practicable, I found that it had been adhered to closely. Having now viewed Long Island, I found mj'self hovering again over the identical spot in the city where my vision had com- menced ; and, while my eyes were resting with delight upon the New York described in a previous chapter, I awoke suddenly, to find myself again surrounded 40 A SWEEPING ^^EW. by all that conglomeration of disorder and imbecility that goes to make up the New York of to-day. Is it to be marveled at that I wandered all that day abstracted and forgetful of all my surroundings, or that the New York and the beautiful adjacent island that I had beheld in my vision, as well as the sweet face of the old man who had been my constant companion during the night's vision, should ever stand prominent by before my eyes ? All this day my agitation of mind was great, while ruminating upon what I had seen, and speculating upon the probable return of my vision. Return it did, how- ever, and took up the scene precisely where it had ended the previous morning. During this and the two subsequent nights, we were exploring the whole North American continent, starting each night from our former elevated position over New York, thence proceeding directly to a point which we had quitted the previous morning ; and so we continued in our explorations until we had traversed the whole land. Let us here take a sweeping view that will convey to the mind of the reader a general idea of the glories which my eyes beheld. Afterward I will dwell a little more upon particulars. Let the eye of the imagination sweep over the entire North American continent. Observe first those long lines of double- track railways, rarely diverging, but pointing onward in an almost direct line ; cutting down hills and lev- eling up vales ; leaping the rivers and the smaller lakes ; extending in unbroken lines across broad valleys, and tunneling mountains, until, connecting ocean with ocean, they span the whole vast land. If THE RAIL AND HIGHWAY SYSTEM. 41 the eye is quick, and tolerably accurate in measur- ing distances, it will notice that these long lines of railways run parallel, that they are situated about fifty miles apart, and that they extend from about the twentieth to the sixtieth degree north latitude. You will observe, also, that, cutting these railways at right-angles, and at about the same distance apart, is also a transverse system of double-track railways, running north and south, thus gridironing the whole laud. I have only to remark here of these railways, that they were constructed in the most substantial manner ; that all their appointments were of the highest order ; that accidents on or about them sel- dom occurred ; and, moreover, that they belonged to the commonwealth. Now, having caught a glimpse of the vast railway system, let the reader in the mind's eye transfer to this whole land that entire general system which I have described as existing upon Long Island, and he will have the picture before him tolerably complete. Would he behold the scene in all its glory, let him not forget the uniform system of highways adorned with trees and hedges ; the highly cultivated fields ; the patches of forest and the silver lakes; the gar- dens and the orchards ; and the groups of community buildings, models of neatness, comfort and elegance, nestling beneath the shade of grand old trees, vine- embowered and fragrant with the perfume of flow- ers, that studded the whole earth as the stars the heavens. Let him, in the imagination, extend this almost fairy-scene over the major portion of the vast landed domain of the North American continent, and he 42 THE rOSSIBILITIES OF MAN. may form a very correct idea of that paradise that I beheld in my vision. But the " beauty and majesty of earth," Laid out, cultivated, and adorned under the highest system of art, " mingled in harmony on Nat- ure's face," is not so easily grasped by the imagina- tion ; yet once seen, as it has been m}^ privilege to behold it, and not even the heavens themselves in all their glory are more impressive. The remembrance of this glorious scene gives me the grandest concep- tion of the possibilities of man — of that high and noble destiny which awaits him upon the earth. Men will tell us, no doubt, that what I picture is but a fairy-scene, born in the imagination of some visionary enthusiast, and that a realization of this conception is impossible. Whisper it not to me. That grand panorama which rose nightly before my eyes ; those momentous hours so pregnant with life that they seemed to expand into years, so much did I mix with and learn of the inner life and customs of the people by whom I was surrounded ; the order with which all things were exhibited to my view ; the clear, full sense of reality with which everything was made apparent ; the clearness and precision with which were presented to me so many important mat- ters pertaining to the welfare of man, and at times descending into detail upon what would appear minor matters, as Avill be seen hereafter — all these things, I affirm, vnaii .somcfhing, and have inspired me Avith a faith that admits not of doubt that the picture I have beheld foreshadows that \/liich is ulti- mately to be a realitv. We shall be told, probably, that the vast system of railways and highways which I have marked out CHANGES IN BRITISH AMEllICA. 43 would involve an amonnt of labor in their construc- tion so herculean as to bo practically beyond the bounds of human accomplishment. My purpose at present is to state what I saw, and what was taught me durint^ the nights of my vision, not to go into particulars regarding the causes which led to so wonderful a transformation. But long before such a transformation becomes a reality, wars will have ceased, and a new industrial system will have been established. When this pe- riod shall have arrived, the united efforts of mankind will soon work the most wonderful changes upon the earth. In fact, the literal transformation of the earth to a degree of utility and excellence equal to what I have here j^ortrayed, is not only, I believe, possiV)le, but, with the vastly multiplied increase of popula- tion that is yearly taking place, it will eventually be impossible for all to be sustained without some such preparation. I will now speak a little more jiarticularly of the changes which had been wrought, confining these more to their several localities. The almost un- broken forest of what is now called British Amer- ica had been cleared, and was under a high state of cultivation. And here I Avould remark that the change which had taken place in the climate of our country had been almost equal to the other changes. The temperature of the higher latitudes had become milder, while that of the tropics was cooler ; and this, without doubt, was the effect of the changes upon the earth's surface. The greater portion of this northern territory, being by nature well adapted 44 NEW ENGLAND. to the new system of improvements, there being few natural impediments to the construction of railways, highways, and the locating of community-groups with much uniformity and order, this vast area of forest had literally been transformed into a beautiful gar- den. But I was particularly impressed, in passing over the continent, with the wonderful changes that had been wrought upon the earth's surface in that portion of the land with which I had been most familiar. New England presented changes that were truly astonishing. Where practicable, the highwaj's had been regularly laid out and graded, and the lauds had been smoothed and graded to a considerable extent, small eminences having been pared down, and rocks removed to fill up the hollows and to build fences. Literally, the crooked had been made straight, and the rough way smooth. And through the improvements, the country, rugged as it was by nature, hud been made to produce many fold more than it produced in the days of my childhood. Parts of the more rugged and mountainous portions, how- ever, had been given wholly over to that to which they were by nature best adapted, namely, the growth of timber. Hence, the severe droughts now so fre- quent, and which are the natural result of the de- struction of our forests, at the time of which I here speak were unknown in the land. Of course, in some portions of New England, as in some other portions of our land, there were natural impediments which jirevented that close uniformity in the constiniction of the railways and highways, and the location of the community-groups, which I THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY. 45 have mentioned as existing upon Long Island, but wherever these barriers occurred, the general plan was followed as closely as practicable. It did seem marvelous, I confess, that so close a conformity to the general plan in the construction of such wonder- ful improvements as I found here could have been executed so successfully in that rugged and moun- tainous portion of our land, extending throughout our Eastern borders as far south as Georgia. These mountain ranges were traversed by the rail- ways at about the regular intervals of fifty miles, in an easterly and westerly direction, and the departure of the northerly and southerly lines from the regular system was not great, while the highways and the community clusters conformed much closer to the general plan than w^ould now be regarded as pos- sible. But it was in pas.sing on into the great valley of the Mississippi beyond that I came more fully to realize the inestimable advantages of a systematized plan for the improvement, cultivation, and adornment of the earth. Here was an area of country extending from the Appalachian chain of mountains at the east to the Rocky Mountains at the Avest, from the great lakes at the north to the Gulf of Mexico at the south, and embracing millions of square miles, that offered few natural impediments to the adoption of this great plan. Nature had here furnished the oppor- tunity for making the grand design practical upon a majestic scale, and well had it been improved. The most magnificent scene ever presented to the eye of man lay spread out before my vision. With a diver- sity of climate that rendered natural the productions 46 VAST IMPROVEMENTS. of both the torrid and temperate zones, with a soil that throughout the greater portion of this whole vast area was the most wonderfully exuberant, all that was here required was that intelligent system of improvements and cultivation, which, happily, had now been bestowed upon it, to transform this im- mense domain, hitherto but partially and very imperfectly cvdtivated, into one grand, magnificent garden spot, constituting in its stupendous whole a land of plenty and of beauty unsurpassed in the legends of fable or in the conceptions of the imagina- tion. The Rocky Mountains, of course, presented another obstacle to the general plan, but these, too, had been j^ierced at several points by the railways to reach the country beyond. Passing this mountain range, we are brought face to face with a transforma- tion equally as wonderful as that presented in the valley of the Mississippi. Over a great portion of that vast plateau l3'ing between the Rocky Moun- tains and the Sierra Nevada and Cascade ranges, and stretching from the Arctic Ocean on the north to the Isthmus of Panama on the south, had been estab- lished the new system of railways, highways, and the community-groups. Over much of this once desert waste, where the sage-bush and the mesquit-tree were formerly the sole production, vegetation was now even luxuriant, and gave sustenance to a vast population. The principal causes which had given rise to the wonderful change of soil in this portion of the land was irrigation, and a rain supply which had constantly increased from year to year, after irrigation had com- ABOLITION OF CITIES. 47 menced, and forests began to grow over the irrigated territory. Through the adoption of the new s^'stem by Cali- fornia, her big "bonanza farms" were transforintid into luxuriant fields and gardens of fruits and flow- ers, unsurpassed in all the earth, thus crowning with hapi^iness a people whose ancestors, to their jDraise be it said, had been among the foremost in their efforts to shake off a property system that had nearly crushed the young state in its infancy. Having now, I trust, given the reader a pretty gen- eral idea of the external appearance of our continent, as it lay stretched out so beautifully and grandly before my eyes during the first few nights of my vision, I shall make a few more general remarks closely related to the subject, and then bring this part of my story to a close. I observed that the rivers and lakes were navigated to some extent, as now, but the canals had been abandoned, and the railways were the principal means of conveyance and transportation. There were but few cities compared in numbers with those of the present day. Those for commercial purposes, by which I have reference to such as did business with foreign countries, Avere scattered along both coasts of the continent as re- quired, Avherever there were suitable harbors. There were also cities scattered here and there over the interior, for convenience in the distribution of com- modities. In Now England and other hill districts, where the facilities for water-power were advanta- geous, some exclusively manufacturing communities W'ere located, but manufacturing, as a rule, was car- ried on in connection with atrriculture. 48 ESTHETICS. I "would further remark that decorating and beauti- fying the earth's surface, at the time of -which I am speaking, seemed to be almost as important as Avas the cultivation of the soil. Shade-trees not only lined the highways, but were to be seen in every other available sj^ot where their 23resence would add com- fort, and of flowers there seemed to be no end. Not only the gardens, but the buildings and the fences, were radiant in their splendor, from early spring until late autumn in portions where there was frost, and perpetually where frost was unknown. Such, in brief, was the picture which was spread out before me, and upon which my eyes feasted in amazement and joy during the first four nights of my vision. Who shall say that the scene was not magnificent, sublime? And could one but share my faith that what I saw in my Tision would ultimately become a reality, would not his heart beat with renewed hopes for the future of his race ? CHAPTER IV. PRESENT EXTERNAL APPEARANCE OF OUR REPUBLIC. In the preceding chapters I have briefly but faintly pictured the external appearance of the North Amer- ican continent as it lay spread out before me in my vision ; depicting thereby, though in a very imperfect manner, the transformation Avhich, I be- lieve, is ultimately to be consummated in our land, through well-devised, well-formulated systems, and the combined action of its inhabitants. The picture referred to, as seen in my vision, will no doubt be regarded by most as Utopian ; but if Utopian, it can hardly be regarded, I think, as be- 3'ond the possibilities of human attainment. None will dispute that the picture I have drawn might be reached, and even far surpassed, in reality, were the proper means adopted for the attainment of such an end. I will not stop to enlarge upon these side issues, however, but will direct the reader's attention to that Avhich I regard as far more important. It is my purpose, in this work, to endeavor to dem- onstrate the impossibility of attaining, in the aggre- gate, to a state of existence that may be properly regarded as in any degree exalted, either materially, intellectually, socially, or morally, under the hitherto dominant basic society principles and customs de- 50 SrEXCER AND HIS TEACHINGy. rived from selfish, incoliereut, haphazard, inharrao- uious, individual effort. To this end, I shall make it a special feature of this work to illustrate the hitherto abortive attempts in the above-named direction, by ccnitrasting the existing conditions with those pict- ured to me in my vision ; regarding the latter, as I do, as unquestionably within the possibilities of man's attainments. No doubt the wonderful variance between the ex- ternal appearance of our Republic of tliB Future, as beheld in my vision, and the present state of things, has presented itself quite clearly to the mind of the reader from the brief description of the former al- ready given; nevertheless, a few moments may not be spent unprofitably in pointing out a few of what I regard as the more objectionable, absurd, ill-devised, and ill-constructed human institutions that have been the direct outcome of individual effort; or, in other words, that have arisen without concurrent de- sign and action upon the part of the race. I am aware that my opinions and convictions rela- tive to what are properly individual and what are society functions differ widely from the modern scientific teachings of the day, now quite popular, advocated by Herbert Spencer and his followers. Nevertheless, my own convictions have not been shaken in the least by any arguments which they have thus far presented upon the subject. The teaching of this school of scientific philos- ophers, if I rightly understand them, is that society has no further function than to protect the individual in his natural rights ; and, this accomplished, the progress of the race must then be left to individual UNITED EFFORT INDISPENSABLE. 51 effort, or at most to such effort as may be made by coteries of individuals co-operatiug in the pursuit of their own personal interests. My own opinion upon this matter is quite the opposite of this : I believe that procedure under this haphazard plan of individual effort is akin to bar- barism, and that most of the progress which has hitherto been made by the race has been attained in proportion as man has departed from this method. Morever, I affirm that the race has been held in check, and its advancement tliAvarted and paralyzed to a fearful extent, by this individual method of pro- cedure. In my belief, the highest possibilities attainable by the human race can be reached only through united effort ; and to this end, after mucli study and con- templation, I can conceive of no plan which appears to me so feasible as the banding together in commu- nities. It is true that all ideas and projects must first originate in the individual brain, but to adopt and utilize these projects as worthy and beneficial, or re- ject them as unworthy and detrimental to human progress and happiness, should be the prerogative of those who may be chosen by the majority as the wisest and best fitted for such purposes. It must be conceded that Avithout united effort to some extent upon the part of mankind, little, if any, progress could ever have been made toward civiliza- tion. It follows, then, as a corollary that the more complete and ample the system established for such iinited effort, the greater and more efficient will be the results. 52! THE FUNCTIONS OF A COMMERCI.VX, CITY. A farther fact, as I believe, aud which I hope to demonstrate satisfactorily to all in the course of this work, is that the widest aud most complete individ- ual libert}' which it is possible to grant or secure to a civilized people may be reached through a commu- nity system similar at least to that advocated in these pages. The few foregoing remarks have been made in order to lay before the reader the ground-work of my theory for substituting a system whereby the united eiforts of the wisest heads may be utilized for pro- moting the welfare of the race, so that this prin- ciple of every man for himself shall no longer con- tinue. As the question here raised, which may be defined in brief as disjointed individual effort, in contrast with a well-devised system of combined effort, will be illustrated and treated of throughout this entire work, it is unnecessary to enlarge further in a gen- eral way upon the subject here. Taking, then, for my standard of comparison, what was presented to me in my vision, I will now proceed to call the reader's attention to a few of the more important of the many existing things which meet the eye upoji every hand, not only in the great city of New York, but in all great commercial cities, and which are totally inad- equate, unsightly, and as a rule superfluous. But first, in order to judge of what may be re- garded as uncalled for and superfluous, it is neces- sary to determine in our minds Avhat are the legiti- mate uses and functions of a commercial city. Upon this question, I hold that a commercial city has no other normal or letjitimate function than UNCOUTH STRUCTURES. 53 simply to act us a factor in the exportation, importa- tion, and, witliiu a given radius, which will hereafter be defined, the exchange of commodities. Conse- quently, all existing appendages not requisite to the fulfilment of such legitimate functions are abnormal and unnecessary. Now imagining ourselves suspended over the great city of New York, as in my vision, let us note Avliat a bird's-ej-e view would present to us. Instead of the grand panorama which lay spread out before me in my vision, one would behold a huge mass of inorganic matter gathered together without order or system, more than half of which would be useless and the remainder ill-adapted to the legiti- mate requirements of a well-devised, well-ordered city. In a harbor beautiful and complete as any that nature has ever constructed lies shipping from every portion of the globe, tied up to long rows of old, rotten, dilapidated, tumble-down wharves, that would be of no special credit to a little inland river town in the Avilds of Africa or Siberia. Turning from the piers, the lover of order and utility is no better satisfied in casting his eyes along the huge and compact piles of brick and mortar, iron and stone, that rise up in long rows and in all shapes that it seems possible for the imagination of man to conceive of, or upon which blind chance could stumble. From an elevated position, one looks down almost in wonder that all this ponderous mass does not sink our little island down, down, far down into the black Tartarus beloAV. 54 OTHEll STUriDITIES AND FOLLIES. The earth, the forest, the mines, and the " rock- ribbed hills " for a thousand niilos around have been forced to pay high tribute toward the construction of these varied monuments of the ingenuity and euerg}^ of man, as also of his asinine stupidity and folly. Row after row, and mile after mile, stretch out these unseemly piles, rarely relieved by touch of nature's hand in tree, or sod, or flower. In the busiest portion of the city, where ample space for air and locomotion is most indispensable, you may catch, glimpses now and then of narrow crevices, sunk down amid this ponderous mass, dignified by the name of streets. Approach near enough to obtain a view of these, and you will find that they are not only contracted, but that the}^ are exceedingly badly paved and filthy, and that the stench from the garbage and refuse from innumerable kitchens rises up from out the gutters, while a thousand other nuisances poison the atmosphere with their noxious vapors, opening wide the flood-gates of disease and death upon ten thou- sand homes. Moreover, you will see in these pig-lanes, dignified b}^ the name of streets, mixed in inextricable confu- sion, a conglomerate mass of vehicles, beasts of burden, and human beings, crowding, jostling, and pushing their way along, amid such an intolerable uproar and confusion as to be suggestive far more of Dante's infernal regions than of a well-ordered and well-regulated commercial city. And yet, with all this elbowing and crowding, we are still compelled to rise above terra-firma to find room for locomotion ; and so we have many of our streets over-arched with THE CONTRAST. 55 railways, increasing the din and confusion until there is left no peace for the sick, (jr rest for the weary ; the effect of which is to drive all except the most iron- nerved to the very verge of insanity. Further up tha city, the scene changes somewhat, and we find more order and regularity with less confusion. Along near the longitudinal center of the island rise the palatial mansions of our Croesuses, not unseemly to look upon, we will confess. On either side stand the less pretentious dwellings of the middle class, while a little further removed from the sacred precincts of the great appropriators may be found the wretched hovels of their victims. Scattered here and there, all about amid this conglomerate mass, rise hun- dreds of factories, breweries, and other nuisances, the smoke and stench from which still further pollute the air. High, overtopping all, crop out the many church-steeples, proclaiming that below, in solemn gi'andeur, stand magnificent temples, erected and em- bellished by enormous labor, ostensibly as places for the worship of one whose life, and the whole spirit of Avhose teachings, were in direct conflict with all waste, display, and folly. How different from all this that beautiful semicircle of my vision, with its stone piers, encircled by wide, substantially-paved streets, along- side of which rose the warehouses, and Avithin the inner circle of which stood the railway buildings, Com- merce Hall, the Sailors' Home, and the garden smil- ing in all its loveliness. The reader, I trust, has not forgotten these, nor the appearance of the new city above Park avenue ; its beautifully-shaded macadam- ized streets, laid out in regular order ; its public buildings, as also the dwellings, standing out open 5G WHAT CENTRAL PARK TEACHES. and free amid ample grounds, grand old trees, beau- tiful lawns, etc. But further contrast seems need- less, as the reader, no doubt, has ere this the picture of each vividly impressed upon the imagination. In our City of the Future we shall have art com- mingled with nature, not only constituting a scene magnificent to behold, but tending to secure to the dwellers therein that exuberance of life, health, and joy of which nature is the most efficient pro- moter. Poised over New York to-day, the observer beholds but one object which may really be called beautiful, or upon which the eye may long rest with satisfac- tion and delight, and that is Central Park. There are a few bright little spots to be seen in the city, but so insignificant are they, among the towering masses that surround them, as to be almost indis- cernible in a general view from above. It is the Park that is the chief attraction of the New York of to-day, and there thousands wend their way daily to breathe the fresh air, gaze upon its beauties, and strive to drive away for a time that care and anxiety which continually beset them amid the strife and strain of an overtaxed and unnatural life. Thanks to Central Park for this. But it teaches us far more : it tells us of the spontaneous love of man for nature, for the green tree, the field, and the flower. De- barred of these, life is abnormal and unsatisfactory. It is strong testimony, therefore, against the normal existence of great, overcrowded cities, that in them, b}^ the very nature of things, these privileges can be enjoyed, except in a very limited way, only by the favored few. AN IMPORTANT QUESTION. 57 Now, as we look down upon our great city where- in dwell a million human beings (with another mill- ion almost within a stone's throw) ; some few of whom are living in elegance and luxury; another class comfortably but not luxuriously ; others strug- gling on overwhelmed with care and anxiety, acquiring little more than a bare existence under an industrial and social organization that saps life from every vein and robs the soul of its longed-for peace ; Avhile others still, and not a few either, are eking out a still more miserable existence in destitution, wretched- ness, and despair — the questions naturally arise in a thoughtful mind : What is all this for? Why this ponderous mass of inorganic matter piled up in such narrow limits, and why this vast concourse of human beings huddled together like sheep in a corner? Should it be assumed that all this is necessary, in order to transact the legitimate business of a com- mercial city, then against all such assumptions I take a decided stand. In the city of the future, described in a previous chapter, the reader must have noticed the entire ab- sence of much the larger portion of that which goes to make up the New York of to-day ; and let us go on now to point out, in a more definite manner, miicli that now exists in our great city which I regard as superfluous, and which may therefore be dispensed with. I shall not stop to present argument or proof in support of my assertions, as these will follow in due order, when I come to treat of the different sub- jects specifically. I will commence, then, by asking, Of what advan- tage to commerce are the thousands of factories, 58 FREE TRiVDE A CONCOMITANT OF COMMUNISM. maehine-sliojis, breweries, boue-boiliiig establish- ments, and an indefinite number of other nuisances that noAV encumber the ground and serve to vastly swell the population of the already overcrowded city of New York, as well as of all the other large com- mercial cities of our republic? I assert Avithout qualification that the legitimate requirements of commerce do not call for any of these, and that therefore they are c|uite out of place in a commercial city. There is plenty of room for them outside of a commercial city, but not within it, and hence out- side is where the}' belong. The exclusion of these manufactories rids us of a large pro23ortion of tlie swarm of human beings that congregate in a great cit}'. There is much more, however, that we shall be compelled to dispense with before our model city can arise. Founding our New Republic on the broad princi- ples of universal brotherhood and equal rights, we must have free trade the world over, and shall have no further need for custom-houses or bonded ware- houses. These may be dispensed with, as well as the vast retinue of government officials and employees now in this service. Our new syst(>m of finance, hereafter to be given, does aw'ay also with all bank- ing-houses and brokers' ofiices ; in fiict, nearly all of Wall street may be wiped out, and along with that will fall many costly edifices outside its precincts, which, through the workings of the present compli- cated, imbecile financial system, sustain the dignity and swell the pockets of our great appropriators. We give a sigh of relief as we clear awa}^ all the par- aphernalia connected with this old intricate, crazy. GOOD-BYE TO COUETS AND LAWYERS. 59 filching sj'stem of finance — with its millions of out- lay in costly structures, its army of officials, book- keepers, clerks, and attendants of every sort. As they have no place in our new city, we brush them away as unceremoniously as we ^vould brush the spider, with his web and victims, from the M'all. Til at very respectable gambling-house called the Stock Exchange we can also dispense with ; neither do we find any further use for the Produce Exchange ; and as we are to have a much less complicated, though more efficient, system of insurance in our New Republic, the life, health, and fire insurance companies (with the many costly structures they have seen fit to erect in order that an imposing and lofty air might be imparted to their vocations), to- gether with their long train of attendants, may step down and out. Neither shall we have any necessity for court buildings and prisons, with their necessary appendages of judges, juries, clerks, sherifi's, and liaugers-on in general ; nor for the almost innumer- able crowd of lawyers, whose offices now occupy so much space in our city. Upon learning that there are to be no lawyers there, who will doubt that peace and prosperit}^ are to reign in our New Republic ? Then, again, we shall have no place in our model city for the almost numberless little petty stores which we now find crowding each other in our main avenues and streets ; which require for their outfit, not only a superabundance of wares, but a vast host of proprietors and attendants, and which must be maintained by plucking one another and the public in general. But, more than all this, our new sys- GO A GENERAL CLEARANCE. tem, substituting collective for individual property interests, does away "witliout effort with those nu- merous sinks of pollution, the nefarious gvog-shops, which are now the curse and the abomination, not onl}' of our own city, but of every city and hamlet in the land. Again, by the depletion of all this crowd of para- sites, and also by the construction of our dwellings for the accommodation of the many, instead of the few, our New City will require but a small number of dwellings compared to the thousands we find hud- dled together in our city of to-day. The economical advantages gained in this matter of dwellings alone, by substituting the community- home for that of the isolated individual domicile, is almost beyond estimation. Yet this is but one of its many advantages ; and, as I hope to demonstrate hereafter, the benefit thus derived will be but small indeed compared with the increased comforts and the ten thousand blessings which community-life can, in my judgment, alone secure. As I have already intimated, I regard the many and costly church edifices which now abound in our cit}' as not only unnecessary, but detrimental to the general good ; and my reasons for arriving at this conclusion will be given in a subsequent chapter. Did I wish to be minute, there are many other ex- crescences, or worse than useless appendages, that might be pointed out in existing New York ; but I have now carried the examination far enough, I think, to make it clear that the greater portion of that which goes to make up the ensemble of our larger cities is wholly unnecessary to their legitimate wants and re- PEESENT ASPECT OF LONG ISLAND. 61 quirements. I hold, therefore, tliat such great cities as we now have upon the face of the globe are un- called for, and that the crowding together in limited space of such immense masses of human beings is absolutely wicked. Huddled together in these huge pest-houses, deprived of a thousand comforts v/hich might otherwise be enjoyed, men and Avomen lead lives that are unnatural and subversive of health and longevity, and, consequently, of jjeace, joy, and hap- piness. But I shall present these matters more fully as we proceed, in speaking of the inner life and work- ings of our New Republic. Having briefly contrasted the external aspect of the New York of the present with the metamorphosed New York of the future, we will now glance, still more briefly, at the present external appearance of the great North American continent ; contrasting it, as may seem fit, with the republic as it is to be. To present the contrast the more systematically and clearly, let us pass on, as in my vision, from New York to Long Island, and, while bearing in mind the transformed island as I have pictured it in a previous chapter, let us now note the general characteristics which here present themselves to the eye. Across the East River, opposite New York, we dis- cover, in place of the green fields, orchards, and gar- dens seen in my vision, naught but a repetition of those long rows of brick and mortar, iron and stone, Avhich we saw in New York. These are placed here, it might no doubt be claimed, for the convenience and benefit of those who are assisting to transact the commercial business of the great city, but all of them, as we have already seen, would have no call for existence if New 62 ORDER DISREGARDED. York were properl}- organized and constructed for a commercial city. "Order," it is said, " is heaven's first law," but lie who is but slightly conversant Avith the arrangement of the universe, and with the order and regularity of the movements of the celestial bodies, will not fail to discover that man has as yet profited but little by the example of the Great Architect. This certainly holds true to a most remarkable de- gree as regards the establishment of our industrial organization for the adaptation of our planet to be a fitting abode for man. Look where we Avill, this Eame lack of a well-devised and well-matured system of united effort, and this same thoughtless, recivless, cut-and-try principle of every man for himself only, is plainly visible. Looking down upon Long Island to-day, in place of our substantial double-track railway of the future, with all its equipments of the first order, there may be seen, in the sand, on which timbers and iron rails have been laid, a number of very crooked tracks, which are dignified by the name of railway's. Some of these raihvays run parallel with each other and but a few miles apart ; others twist and wind about in every conceivable direction that may be necessary to reach some little village, which, like Brooklyn and many other places contiguous to New York, are but parasites living upon her bounty, and which, under a proper sj'stem, would have no legitimate excuse for existence ; and hence, under a proper ordering of things, there would be no call for most of the rail- ways that lead to them. Then the appointments of these railways are quite in keeping with the roads themselves — station houses A HUMILIATDIG TASK. 63 ill-constructed, filthy, and comfortless, and rolling- stock inadequate, dirty, and dilapidated. And in the place of our future system of elegantly con- structed and well-sLaded liigliways, spanning the whole island in regular order, and on which the eye could never fail to rest with delight, what have we now before us? Eest assured I feel no slight degree of humilia- tion, as I now attempt, at the close of the nineteenth century, to describe the highways of what may be called a very old-settled portion of energetic, self- glorious America ; but as it seems to come within my province, I must not hesitate. You who have never gazed upon the like, imagine a strijD of white sand, the width of an ordinary vehi- cle, with a cavity sunk at either edge from two to six inches in dejDth, caused by the wheels of the vehicles as they are drawn along with great effort by panting and smoking quadrupeds, which at every stej) sink above the fetlocks in this soft earth. Imagine, now, one of these sand-paths winding, in its course, toward every conceivable point of the compass — now this waj-, to reach an individual who has thought it jDroper to rear his tenement, upon a hill; now that way, to ac- commodate another who has jntched his tent in the valley ; then picking its way around this man's mill- pond to take in the blacksmith shop of another; and so twisting, and curving, and winding about like the tail of a serpent ; now over rickety bridges, where life and limb of both man and beast are at stake ; and again where much cringing an.d dodging is necessary to escape the bushes that overhang the sandy path. Imagine hundreds of these brute-killing sand-trails 64 BEUTE-KILLIXG llOADS. runniug without any sort of regularity, and "with no purpose further than to reach every man's front door, whatever the circuit necessary, and yon have a tolerably fair conception of the system of public highways now included in a bird's-eye view of Long Island, and may form some adequate idea of the public highway of to-day in what is often called the garden-spot of America. It is true some attempts to improve these sand-trails have been made, and in some cases with fair results ; but, as a rule, the public highways of Long Island, and, for that matter, of America at large, are but a grade above the native Indian trail, or cow-path, in which they apparently originated. Now, from the highways turn the eye upon the fences beside them, and as a rule you will lind them anything but pleasing to the eye. These tumble-down, dilapidated apologies for fences make a sorry appearance indeed, when contrasted in the mind with the beautiful hedge I have described as beheld in my vision along these Long Island high- ways. The reader will no doubt remember distinctly the community-clusters of the Long Island of our Future Republic, situated at distances of three miles apart, laid out in regular order, buildings all spacious, com- modious and elegant, nestling beneath the shade of trees, and looking out upon beautiful lawns and smiling gardens of fruit and flower. Let us now see what the Long Island of to-day presents in lieu of this. We observe, it is true, many small villages which collectively may present a view from aloft somewhat pleasing, but the pleasure thus COUNTRY VILLAGES. G5 derived is dispelled upou a closer scrutiny. The same marks of caste which we see in the cities are here visible in the habitations, and are often more conspicuous. Some of the buildings, with their en- vironment, are elegant, others passable, while others still are of the most dilapidated and wretched de- scription. Then, even in the villages the same dis- order and irregularity are visible that we see in our New York of to-day. The streets are laid out with slight regard to method, and in the main little attempt is made to join art with nature in beautify- ing and adorning. But what is really of more im- portance than all else is the fact, already mentioned, that, under a well-ordered commercial organization, many of these villages — perhaps I might say most — would have no legitimate call for existence. Leaving the villages, the eye rests here and there upon the heterogeneous results of man's construct- ive sagacity common to all so-called " improved " agricultural districts, upon the plan of isolated in- dividual occupauc}^ Scattered family abotles, with their accompanying out-buildings, in almost end- less variety of architecture, dot the landscape, and form a motley scene. Some of these farm-houses, comparatively speaking, may be called beautiful, but by far the larger portion present little of beauty, or even of neatness and thrift. The buildings are usually in a dilapidated condition, and need to be repaired and painted, or, what would be a greater improvement, to be torn down to give place to better. Heaps of rubbish litter the ground ; door- yard fences are down, gates are off their hinges, and the pig-pen is often but a few yards from the kitchen GG NECESSITY or OKGANIZATION. door ; -uliile baru-yard and stables are but little further removed. This, we all kuow, is quite a correct picture of the individual family homes, over the beauties of -which political demagogues are wont to rave so much. Tho general appearance of the buildings, and the outlook about the individual farm-houses, are quite indica- tive, in the main, of the rudimentary manner in v.hicli tho attempt to cultivate and adorn the earth, and to make it subservient to man's wants, is carried on, not only on Long Island, but over the whole North American continent. The general appearance of our entire country is ample proof of this. Nearly every farmer has double, treble, quadruple, or perha^DS ten, twenty, or fifty times the quantity of land that he can cultivate Avith any degree of thoroughness, and the consequence is that there is produced from the land but a mere fraction of what it is capable of producing. Yet on every portion of our planet's surface, human beings are huddled together in cities, where they famish for want of that sustenance which nature would so amply provide if mankind would but or- ganize an industrial ^system befitting the wants of the age. I have dwelt somewhat at length upon the appear- ance of Long Island, for the reason that the general features which mark that locality are character- istic, in. a great measure, of the whole country. In the further pursuance, therefore, of my design of calling the attention of the reader to the present general appearance of tlie continent, in order that he may contrast the same with the general appearance as beheld in my vision, I shall be much less minute A POSSIBLE CRITICISM. 07 tljiui heretofore. I sluill take but a raj)icl, sw^eeping glaiice over the continent, noting only the more prom- inent characteristics, while I shall make such com- ments upon the existing order of things as may seem to me timely and appropriate. My plan of pursuing this investigation for the pur- pose of pointing out the defects in our Industrial System (using this term in its broadest signification), I am aware, exposes me to the criticism that in treating of this, as of all other questions, both sides are entitled to a hearing ; and that consequently, to be fair, the advantages arising from the present order of things should be stated, as well as the defects. To this I would reply that of course no one will deny that our present industrial system (if it be admitted that Ave have anything which may be properly styled an industrial system) has been advanced far beyond the rude attempts at the improvement and cultivation of the earth made by the savage tribes. But my claim is that our industrial system is by no means commensurate with the intelligence nor adequate to the requirements of our age, and is therefore hardly deserving of commendation. In so far as any system falls short of reaching to man's ideal, when that ideal is unquestionably based upon human possibilities, that system is defective ; and it is through pointing out the defects of a sys- tem that we place it in a position for being eitlier improved or abolished, so that a better may be reared in its place. Industrial Systems, like re- ligions which may have been in some manner suited to the age in which they originated, but have passed G8 COTTON. — SOMETHING WRONG, their clay of usefulness, should be supplanted by those better adapted to the intellect and advance- ment of the times. We will now proceed to a further consideration of the defects of an industrial system which, having passed the zenith of its usefulness (providing it ever had much usefulness), should, and will ere long, be supplanted by a superior system, and one which is more in harmony Avith the advanced condition of the race. Passing on from Long Island over New England, we look down upon a scene different indeed in many of its aspects from the one we have left behind, but still marked by most of those prominent character- istics which denote an industrial system fragment- ary, unskilful, and unprogressive. We find the usual excess in the number of cities, and more than the usual excess of large manufacturing towns and villages. It is not denied that some portions of New England are better adapted to manufacturing than to agricultural pursuits ; but this is no good reason for establisliing or retaining there any sort of manufacture which might be prosecuted to better advantage somewhere else. What good reasons are there, for instance, why cotton from the South should be transported to New England for manufacture into cloths, and these cloths carried back for distribution among the Southern people, while all the natural facil- ities for the manufacture of this cotton into cloths are to be found in the vicinity in which it is raised? There is something radically wrong, certainly, in a method which calls for all this unnecessary trans- portation and waste of labor. It is evident, upon SCHOOL-BOY FARMING. — THRIFTLESSNESS. 69 common-sense business principles, that quite a large share of the manufacture of New England has no legitimate place there. A large portion of her varied manufactures, under a better regulated industrial sys- tem, would be connected with agricultural pursuits, and distributed all over the land, as we have seen was the case in the New Republic. It is clear that in passing over New England, besides the many defects already depicted in our de- scription of Long Island, we look doAvn upon a vast number of large towns and villages that are but the abnormal growth of an ill-devised manufacturing sys- tem ; as also upon a scene denoting in agricultural pursuits, and in the general improvement and ad- vancement of the soil, a lack of system similar to that which stares one in the face throughout the wide expanse of our entire continent. We see scores of half-built railwaj^s winding their tortuous course along, to bring up at some manufacturing town that has no legitimate call for existence ; we see a hotch- potch of highways that are a disgrace to the people of au}^ portion of a land that has had fifty years of existence, and that calls itself civilized ; we see the same system of school-boy farming we have called the reader's attention to on Long Island, while everywhere prevails the same lack of neatness, order, and beauty, and a general neglect of adapting means to an end, and that end the mutual welfare of mankind. Passing on westward, as Ave are about to leave Massachusetts and enter the state of New York, the eye fixes itself upon an anomaly so strange, and yet so pertinent to the subject of which we are treating, that it must not be passed without notice. 70 THE SHAKER COMMUNITY. Here may be seen two villages in marked contrast "svitli those surrounding them. The buildings are spacious and commodious ; there are no squalid huts like those Avhich we have seen in every village we have heretofore locked down upon ; the barns are upon a huge scale ; all the buildings glow with the freshest coats of paint — neatness, order, comfort and thrift.abound throughout. The fields that surround these villages bear the marks of unexampled neat- ness, order, and prosperity ; fences are superior ; bushes and briars have been cleared away ; meadoAVS drained; stumps have been extracted and burned; stones dug up and put into fences, and the surface of the land made smooth and ready everywhere for the reaper and the mowing-machine. In short, everything about these villages and the fields be- longing to them is in singular contrast to the adjacent farms and villages. The pastures are fresher; the grass and grain grow more luxuriantly ; the or- chards yield more luscious fruit ; the horses, cattle, and sheep are better bred ; and the products of the field and factory are of acknowledged superiority, and bring the highest prices in the market. Strange as it may appear, these are community- villages in which property is held in common — the quintessence of folly and abomination to the present age ! And, what may also be considered strange, these communities have attained their present state of prosperity under the most adverse circumstances. They have been hampered from within by the un- natnral practice of celibacy imposed upon them, while from without they have been conspicuous ob- jects of ridicule and contempt. ADVANTAGES OF COMBINED EFFORT. 71 I regard the rearing of these Shaker communities, amid surroundings so antagonistic, to a height of material prosperity far surpassing the results of all the individual effort around them, much as I would regard the raising, from the germ, of some tropical plant, upon soil not the most favorable, exposed to the cold blasts of our northern climate, and still deep-rooted, vigorous, and putting forth its blossoms in due season in wonderful exuberance. The natural tenacity of life exhibited in such a plant would be typical of these communities that have encountered obstacles the most serious, and yet have progressed in material prosperity, if nothing more, far beA'ond those who have been their competitors in the strug- gle for existence. I am n6t defending Shakerism, for with its cast- iron, unnatural bond of celibacy I have as little patience as I have s^-mpathy with many other of its tenets and forms. I am bringing forward these Shaker communities for the purpose of illustrating the advantages in material comforts of combined as against indivkJual effort ; and no further demonstra- tion of this great fact, it seems to me, can be asked for. In social matters, I have no less faith in the superiority of communal over isolated family life, but I shall not look to Shakerism for an illustration of this, though I hope to demonstrate it beyond doubt in this work ; and should I not do so, the fault will be my own, and no one should conclude there- from that such demonstration is impossible. Neither must it be understood that I regard these Shaker villages as models, b}' any means, in external appearances. The favorable aspect in which they 72 ONEIDA COMMUNITY. appear comes from taking as a standard of compari- son their present environment ; bnt -when contrasted with the community- villages of the future, as j^re- sented in a former chapter, thev sink into the com- monplace, with little of comparative order, taste, or beauty. As we pass on a little further westward, we come upon a community that deserves notice from the fact that, while founded and reared under conditions, in one essential particular at least, quite opposite to bhakerism, it has attained a similar degree of pros- perity. Here we find, or have found until recently, a sys- tem of complex marriage, or free love, as it is some- times called, which, while maintained, drew down upon the heads of this singularly independent and courageous people hatred, contempt, and a shower of denunciation even greater than that which has fallen to the lot of Shakerism. Yet, surmounting all an- tagonisms and difficulties, they too, in turn, have reached a state of material prosperity much superior to that of their individual competitors. So w^e see that neither the odium of celibacy nor of free love proved sufficient to prevent the industrial success of these communities ; and if celibacy and free love, the most unpopular doctrines that could possibly be advocated at the present day (except it be Commun- ism), could not blast the prosperity of a community, it is hard to conceive what could. I am aware that by some the objection is urged that it is impossible for associations of individuals to dwell together, except in communities which, like those mentioned, are bound by some religious senti- ONE BENEFIT OF COMMUNAL LIFE. 73 meiit sufficiently potential to Aveave their lives into harmony. I do not object to this in the abstract, but when it is asserted that a belief in some dog- matic theological creed of man's invention is indis- pensable, then I do object most emphatically. Community-life, wherein the interests and welfare of each are the interest and welfare of all, is in its very essence of an exalted spiritual nature, and the rise into such a state from the selfish individualism of existing society must needs be gradual ; but we are advancing toward this high ideal at greater speed than we apprehend, and shall advance still more rapidly as we near the goal. Such illustrations as those afforded by the Shaker and Oneida communities, and others which will be hereafter mentioned in this work, demonstrate to a certainty, it appears to me, that at least the material prosperity' of mankind in the aggregate will be greatly augmented by a universal community sys- tem, in which property shall be held in common. In these communities they have no poor, with the con- comitants of anxiety, destitution, want, and despair. Comfort — even abundance, in a material point of view — is insured to all. Leaving the state of New York, which, in the light we are now viewing it under, presents general char- acteristics not unlike those of New England, and passing on to the great valley of the Mississippi — the extent .and possibilities of which have already been noticed — what do we there behold? I hear some enthusiastic admirer of that region answer: "The cotton-growing district, and the granary of the world." 74 THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY AS IT IS. There is a degree of truth in this ; but it would have been still more complete and less sensational had the speaker added, " in embr3'o." I am not oblivious to the fact that this great basin of the Mississippi has contributed, and is still con- tributing, a large surplus production to supply the wants of many people, both in our own and in foreign lands ; but of far greater importance, to my mind, is the question what this wide extent of territory, favored so highly bv nature, is producing, and what it is capable of being made to produce. It is by comparison that we justly measure prog- ress, and this comparison may be fitly made, not only with the real, but with the ideal also, providing the attainment of that ideal does not transcend the possibilities of human achievement. If we compare the present appearance of this great tract of countr}^ with its appearance, say a century ago, tlie progress seems great indeed, and we are inclined to glory in its present condition ; but con- trast the reality with the picture presented in my vision and given the reader in a former chapter, and the present advantages sink into insignificance. We then behold it as it really is — that is, in an extremely rudimentary condition, so far as its improvements fit it to the wants of civilized man. This great valley of the Mississippi, covering a /.large portion of our continent, and most admirably adapted by nature for being laid out and improved upon scientific principles, j^reseats to the eye of the lover of order and system to-day a picture that is melancholy in the extreme. Speaking generally, there is hardly the faintest resemblance to anything BKITISH AMERICA. 75 pertaining to system or wisdom, eitlier in public im- provements or in the attempts to cultivate and adorn the earth. On the contrary, there is much to remind one of the enormous and reckless waste and sacrifice of man's energies and labor through the lack of well- devised s^'stem and united effort. Turning now to the north, Ave come upon a vast extent of territory (the present British America^ a great portion of which remains totally unreclaimed. Covered by primeval forests, and watered by beauti- ful rivers and lakes, are thousands of square miles of arable lands which need but the hand of man, guided by such intelligence as shall secure some well-matured scientific jilan of action, to transform them into a region of plenty and of beaut3\ The climate of a great portion of this area is not, as is often supposed, too severely cold for successful agri- culture, and it is not to be doubted that cultivation would modify the temperature to a considerable extent, rendering British America in this respect, as in most others, a pleasant land in wliich to dwell. Of the general appearance of that vast extent of our continent lying between the great valley of the Mississipi and the arable lands on the Pacific coast there is little more to say than has been said in a former chapter. Except in a very limited manner, no at- tempt has ever yet been made to reclaim those vast lands, which cover a territory embracing nearly one- third of the United States. It is true that a large portion of this territory, by reason of its mountainous and irregular surface, or its too rigorous climate, is beyond the reach of cultivation ; but the major part is quite susceptible of improvement, and might be 76 FROM THE SIERRAS TO THE SEA. made to produce abundantly. It is true, also, that there still are broad fields of uncultivated and half- cultivated lauds in the valley of the Mississippi "which will, naturally, be brought under im])rovement before much will be done toward reclaiming the less eligible lands of the far West ; but were the labor now daily sacrificed there in extracting metals from the earth for an almost useless purpose expended in irrigating and reclaiming the fields adjacent to these mining districts, it is almost impossible to estimate the benefit that would thereby accrue to mankind. We Avill now pass on to that beautiful tract of country lying between the Sierras and the Pacific ; and if ever a portion' of the country was especially favored by nature, I think it is this. Her natural exuberance of production arising from climate and soil is indeed wonderful. Vegetation indigenous to both the temperate and tropical zones fiourishes here profusely. Her flowers are the fairest, and her fruits the most delicious, of the whole land. Lim- ited as is this section in extent, yet millions of human beings might here sit beneath the shade of their own vine and fig-tree, enjoving the many bless- ings of this highly-favored land. Such it might be ; but how difterent from this it is! Instead of the millions who ought each to hold an interest in the soil of this beautiful country, a score or so of indi- viduals have gobbled up the greater portion of it, and retain it for their own personal benefits. Unhappy Ireland bears Avitness to what will be the fate of humanity throughout our whole land, as in all other lands, unless some radical change is made in the property system of the world. And THE LAND MONOPOLY. 77 who is it, reader, that j:,dves to these hmded j^entrj the privilege of supreme control over these vast acres of nature's domain ? It is society, of which you and I each form a part ; and unless we raise our voices firmly and defiantly against such injustice ; unless Ave do all in our power to right such wrongs, boldly denouncing a public sentiment that upholds or tacitly assents to them, we make ourselves par- ticipants in this injustice, and share in its wicked- ness. We have now passed a rapid glance over the C(jn- tinent, and the reader has no doubt been somewhat impressed with the disadvantages arising from the ruling penchant of every man for paddling his own canoe, regardless of his fellow. I have run over the matter hastily and sweepingl}^ assuming that the reader has already a very compre- hensive idea of the general appearance of the- existing order of things throughout our land. To form, I think, quite an intelligent opinion as to what hotch- potch, isolated eftbrts upon the selfish, individual plan have produced in the world, he needs ])ut to contrast this, as touched upon in the current chapter, and much else apparent to his own observation and intelligence, with the picture of the New Ke])ublic as witnessed in my vision, and given in a former chapter. Through such comparison the effect of our rudimentary, school-boy industrial system is brought out in bold relief. Our system of intei-nal improvements (provided it be granted that we have any such system) sinks into the commonplaco, and our individual attempts toward cultivating and adorning the earth seem puerile enough. Contem- 78 AX ILLUSTRATION. ^^ plating these matters, we lose not a little of our turkey-gobbler assurance ; our breasts cease to ex- pand with pride ; our plumage droops, and our strut is visibly modified. A suspicion begins to dawn upon our minds that something more than this is required to subdue the earth and adapt it to the wants and happiness of mankind. We begin to sus- pect, perhaps, that it might have been better had mankind long ago fixed upon some definite, well- devised, and well-matured plan of action by which their labors could have becMi prosecuted in a more intelligent and harmonious way. Sa])pose that a thousand men were desirous of reacliing Liverpool ; suppose there were no vessels to convey them, and that then, instead of uniting their efforts, buihling a ship, and going tc^gether, each should build a canoe for himself and undertake to paddle himself across. This would be precisely an- alogous, as I view it, to the present plan of each striving to make his own way in the world regard- less, in a great measure, of the rest. Nine-tenths of those who should thus set out to cross the ocean in their individual canoes Avould be likeh' to come to grief. And so, by their independent course, an equal portion fail of their purpose in the pursuit of the comforts and joys of life. Only a few, possessed of the indispensable requisites of the sailor, and much favored, besides, b}' wind and wave, Avould ever get across ; and it is only the few so favored who reap success in buffeting the billows of life. Thus far, in the world, instead of some definite plan of action having been devised, upon which mankind might work together in harmony for one common THE RISING QUESTION. ' 79 eucl, ;uul tliat end tlic mutual "welfare and happiness of all, each individual has gone on working, in the main, after a plan of his own. The result is what we see — a muddle, confusion, and a want of general success, that is humiliating to man's intelligence, and stamps society as much more barbarous, as 3'et, than civilized. Thus far, no doubt, the capacity of the eartli to provide for the wants of its people has caused much indifference to the industrial problem. This, how- ever, cannot much longer continue without visiting upon mankind the most serious consequences. The population has already advanced to such a degree that, if human life is to be maintained in comfort upon the earth, the great question should be thought- fully considered, of how our globe may best be fitted and prepared to maintain the immense concourse of people that will eventually gather upon her surface, and how some scheme may be formulated and fixed upon through which mankind may be or- ganized for working together to meet the require- ments of the times. In fact, the exigencies of the case demand that we not only move, but that we move quickly, if we Avould relieve our felloAv-beings from the burdens which already press sorely upon them, and Avhicli are likely to increase at a frightful rate while matters remain as they are. Millions U])on millions of human beings who, in our great cities, towns, and villages, are engaged in commer- cial and manufac'tiiring pursuits, and who are eking out a more or less miserable existence, should be scattered over the great valley of the Mississijipi and other jiortions of the land, cultivating and em- 80 CONSEQUENCES TOO LIGHTLY CONSIDERED. bellisliiug the earth, or employed at such manufact- ure as a well-devised system and an intelligent direction should point out. That our industrial system should not have advanced beyond the most infantile, inchoate stage seems wonderful when the immense consequences of the fact are considered. It Avould seem that among the first concerns of mankind, upon arriving at a social state of some im- portance, would have been the adoption of some intelligent method of forcing the earth to yield to his wants its greatest abundance ; and that, as he rose higher in the scale of being, a taste for the beautiful would also have arisen in his soul ; hence it would be inferred that some systematic plan would have been devised and adopted for the em- bellishment of the earth. These, I say, would seem to be the natural suppositions ; but as we find, even now, so little of united efibrt toward industrial organization for these purposes, Ave are led to con- clude either that mankind are naturally averse to organization and co-operation to accomplish their desires, or that they have never as yet become aroused to the inestimable advantages to be attained through these methods. The first of these supposi- tions is rendered untenable from the fact that huge organizations have already, and long ago, been formed by mankind both for war and politics. The extent to which organization has been employed in these fields demonstrates the wonderful power of united action Avhen the necessities of the case are overpoweringly thrust upon the minds of men. "VVe are left, therefore, to the other conclusion, which is that mankind have not as yet become aroused to the THE FAULT LIES WITH THE METHOD. 81 importance of the benefits which may be derived from organized and united effort in subduing, culti- vating, and embellishing the earth. Tlius far we have ever been making abortive at- tempts to accomplish a purpose and to reach an end, and that purpose and that end the highest happiness of each and all upon the earth ; and the method has been for everyone to strike out and pursue reck- lessl}^ and blindly his own course, almost regardless of the rest. I do not believe the desired end can ever be reached through this selfish method. It is the barbarous method, as I have before said, and the closer we continue to adhere to it the nearer allied- to barbarism shall we remain. An industrial system that will secure united and harmonious effort among mankind is what is now needed more than all else for the attainment of the highest order of civiliza- tion and the greatest happiness of mankind upon the earth. CHAPTER V. GOVERNMENT AND LAWS. At the close of my third night's experience, having now traversed and examined nearly the entire surface of the continent, I again began to have doubts both of the further continuance of ni}- vision and of the re- appearance of my venerable guide. I had hardly closed my eyes on the fourth night, however, before my hcmored attendant stood by my side, and we were once more hovering over the city of my home. "You have been permitted an aerial view of the Future Republic," he said, " and now I am to show you its people, their government, their customs, and their mode of life. In your own republic," he con- tinued, " which now comprises the entire North American continent, may be found a true type of the life, customs, and government of each of the other great divisions of the globe. You will be permitted, as before, to change with the velocity of thought from one portion of the Republic to another, so that, by personal examination, everything may be shown and made clear to you. "As the happiness of a people," he concluded, " depends largely upon their mode of government, I will now point out to j^ou the governmental system that has been established in the Republic." f-2 THE CAPITOL AND ITS OCCUrANTS. 83 Instantly I was transferred to St. Louis, and there beheld the Capitol of the Great Republic. It was a fijranite building, four stories in height, and in exter- nal appearance resembled Science Hall in New York, though quite dift'erent in its internal construction. As this matter will come up again, I shall not stop here to note the different purposes to which this building was assigned, but shall mention only what is apropos to ray present purpose. This Capitol contained a large hall for the use of the Chief Magistrates when gathered together for deliberation, discussion, and decision upon all mat- ters pertaining to the public interests that j)roperly came under their jurisdiction. The duties of the chief magistrates may be defined as the devising and putting into execution of plans for all works of a public nature, or, in other words, the supervising and regulating of such public matters as did not prop- erly belong to the communities themselves. It Avas not a function of the chief magistrates, let it be here understood, to make laws (as prescribed statute laws there were none), but substantialh', as before stated — varying the language in order to make the matter more clear — their duties were to decide all public questions which might properly be brought before them, to devise plans for the proper ordering of the public interests, and to direct as to their exe- cution. The decisions of the chief magistrates were final in all public matters, and were carried out un- deviatingly. The doors of the House of Magistrates were never closed ; its members, except for short in- tervals of rest, taken alternately, remained at their post continually for four hours each day. 84 ELECTION OF OFFICERS. I will now state liow the officers of tliis our New Republic, were chosen. It is necessary to premise, however, that through- out the length and breadth of the New liepublio the people all lived in communities varying in size from one hundred to three hundred individuals. Each and every community had its chief ruler, called "the Magistrate," who was chosen annually by the com- munity-members, and for whom every individual of eighteen years and upward, of either sex, had the privilege of voting. The chief magistrates, as those elected to the house of magistrates at St. Louis were called, and who were always one hundred in number, exclusive of the chairman, were chosen by the community magistrates, and for this purpose the Republic was divided into one hundred and one districts. Every chief magistrate was selected from among the community magistrates in his own district, each community magistrate being entitled to a vote in the election. The term for which the chief magistrates were chosen was five years, but they might be re-elected and returned, as might also the community magis- trates. The chief magistrates chose from among their number a presiding officer, who was styled the President of the Republic. There was also chosen in every community, at the time and in the manner prescribed for the election of the magistrate, five in- dividuals (who might be of either sex) Avho acted as counsel for the magistrate, and were termed " the Council." As the arbitrament of the house of mag- istrates was final in all matters of a more public PUNISHMENT FOR OFFENSES. 85 character, so the rulings of the Council were supreme in all community affairs. The duties of the magis- trate were executive, principally, and for any flagrant act of injustice or tyranny he might at any time be deposed. A charge for deposing the magistrate had to proceed from the council, and to be made eft'ective required a majority vote of the community. A rule, strictly adhered to by all the communities, was the ineligibility to office for five years thereafter of any individual who should be convicted of attempting, in any manner whatever, either directly or indirectly, to influence his or her election. A charge of this kind brought before the council was required to be siibstantiated hj at least three individuals, who had heard the accused advocate his or her own election, or wdio could testify to any attempt to solicit votes for that purpose. Besides the officers enumerated, a Magistrate and a Council of Five were also chosen for each city, and called the " City Magistrates " and the " City Coun- cil." These officers Avere chosen b}^ the Community Magistrates in the several cities for the term of one year. Their duties were to direct and decide in all matters pertaining to the general interests in Avhich the several communities of the city were mutually involved. This, in the main, was all the machinery used or found necessary for conducting the affairs of govern- ment in the New Republic. As there were no laws, no penalties were required for the breaking of laws. Only one penalty was ever imposed upon a human being, and that was expulsion from the community. But such expulsion might become a serious matter 86 EXPULSION. indeed. The outcast, u}3on being expelled from a community, was given a paper showing that it was his first expulsion, and what had been the offense. With this, but not without it, he might gain admis- sion into another community for a new trial. If he again refused to conduct himself properly, and to submit to the rules of the community, he was again expelled, bearing a document showing that it was his second expulsion ; also what were his first and sec- ond offenses. This would secure him, for the third and last time, entrance into a community. If his conduct was now such that he could no longer be borne -with, he was again driven out, and this time to become an outcast from his race — to herd evermore with the wild beast. Instances of this, however, were ver}' rarely known. There being no motive for crime, Clime was almost unknown in the land ; for where justice reigns, mankind, as a rule, cheerfully perform their duties. And now, reader, here, within the limits of a few pages, I have sketched for you the basic sj'stem of a government under which a great people lived in peace, prosperity, and happiness. It may be enough to excite to derision and to convulse with laughter the egotistical politician and law-maker of our own day, but I would ask that the reader suspend judg- ment until ho has read what further the writer has to say in this work, and until he has pondered upon the subject a suflScient length of time to be fairly entitled to an opinion. The wisest and best government that can ever be devised for man's guidance, and one under which he may dwell in peace and harmony with his kind, is MORAL SUASION. 87 that which shall extend to him the widest individual lib- erty compatible with public order. It is evident that mankind cannot dwell harmoniously together in a state of anarchical confusion. There must be organ- ization, system, in government as in all things where- in men join their forces for their mutual benefit. But while order is an essential element in society, and organization for securing and maintaining this is in- dispensable, in my belief, under just, equitable, and proper industrial and property systems, this may be reached and maintained without laws. The enact- ment of laws to restrain mankind from wrong acts and preserve public order is the attempt to carry out the barbarous and, I may say, too, the theological theory that mankind can be governed by/ore^'. In some despotic god, like the Hebrew Jehovah, ruling mankind with an iron hand, with kings and priests as his vicegerents upon thti earth, and to whom was delegated his despotic sway, originated primarily the idea of a ruler of mankind, which is the one dominant idea that still exists. With this idea I, for one, have no sympathy. I believe there is a better way to rule ma4ikind, and this better way is by persuasion. First establish just systems, then treat all men and women as human beings, human brothers and sisters, and ^-ou will find no further use for a code of laws. The simple organization or system which I have here marked out embraces, in my belief, all the principal essentials to the preservation of public order, while it affords, moreover, to the individual, the fullest liberty com]iatible with this. It makes government advisory rather than compulsory; selects, 88 MORAL SENTIMENT. as a matter of course, the wisest and best to be tbe directing minds or leaders, leaving the people to their choice to accept society, with all its comforts and joys, or to become outcasts from it and cast their lot with the wild beasts. It must be understood that the time referred to here, in which we find a condition of society ren- dering practicable the system of government which I have described, is supposed to be in the remote future — a time in which the ruling power of society has at last become wholly vested in its proper re- pository — the moral sentiment. Think of it now, my fellow-men ; get right down to the very core of the matter, and see if your better judgment does not tell you that the only true instru- mentality through which man may be guided in his association Avith his fellows is the moral sentiment. When mankind learn to heed and obey this, they will have no further need for laws ; and such was the condition of society in the Republic of which I now speak. The moral sentiment is the true mon- itor, mandator, and arbiter of mankind in their asso- ciations ; its true exponent is public opinion, and public opinion is the properl}" constituted public authority. There is little room for doubt that pub- lic opinion would be all-potent for the harmonious government of mankind if the sj'stem of private property were out of the way ; but while this system is retained, no government or laws within the power of man to devise can ever promote harmony or re- strain men from Avronging their kind. Were we to examine the matter closely, we should find, I think, that even under existing society public opinion is a THE MOST POTENT INFLUENCE. 89 far more potent clieck upon man's propensity to wrong his fellow than all the multifarious laws that have ever been invented. The man or woman who has passed beyond the restraining influences of public opinion (if such a person is to be fountl) has struck a level with the brute, and feels about .as much respect for human laws as does the brute. But I doubt if a human being can be discovered wholly insensible to public opinion. The nearer men approximate to this brut- ish condition, however, the less repugnance they have to committing acts which the laws forbid. Many observe the laws, not that they have much regard for them or for their penalties, but that they are dis- graced by breaking them. If there were no other power than that of the laws for restraining mankind in our republic to-day, a sorry time, indeed, we should have of it ; but public opinion, exercising a censorsliip over our actions, is far more potent than all the laws which human wis- dom can devise. I am aware that public opinion is not always right opinion, but it will always come just as near to this as the average moral sentiment of a people will per- mit. Public opinion, as I have before said, is the embodiment and voice of the moral sentiment, and will change, therefore, as the moral sentiment of a people changes. Public opinion is strong, also, in proportion as it plants itself upon equal justice be- tween man and man. But when public opinion says, "You shall not steal," and then explains, or leaves it to be inferred, that you may not steal directly, but in an indirect way — 90 PUBLIC OPINION PUBLIC AUTHORITY. that is, by deceiving, cheating, or in any manner not prohibited by the law ; that you may steal all you can get your hands upon — then public opinion loses its potency. Laws are then required to restrain the in- dignant — those who feel themselves circumvented and wronged. But let us do away with the system of private property, which breeds such conditions as have been pointed out above, and plant ourselves upon a basis of exact and equal justice to all, and there will be no further ruling power required than that of public opinion. Public opinion, under the regime which I have fore- shadowed for the Future Republic, becomes jmblic author it I/; and what device for the government of mankind under such conditions could be less oner- ous or more proper and potent? But, although in this work I predicate my regime of ^^ublic opinion without laws for the government of mankind, upon an improved, a higher and more exalted, general moral sentiment, I am free to declare here, that, taking the general moral sentiment of the people as it 710W exists, coupled tvith a system of collective 2Wop- erly, I would not hesitate to trust my own fate, and that of those nearest me by the ties of blood and affection, to such a sj'stem of government as that foreshadowed in this chapter. With all the evil I see around me in the world, I have still an abiding- faith in the virtue of my fellow-men, when treated justly. Moreover, when mankind in the savage state have already found it possible to dwell together in peace and happiness under no other law than that prescribed by public opinion, I fail to see why this A MODEL COMMUNITY. 91 state inaj not also be reached among people calling themselves civilized. In evidence of the fact that there have already been instances of such rule, I quote here from Wallace's '* Malay Archipelago," Vol. II., p. 160-1. "I liave lived,'" sa3's Wallace, " with communities of savages in South America and in the East, who have no laws f)r law courts but the i)ublic opinion of the village freely expressed. Each man scruj^ulously respects the rights of his fellow, and any infraction of these rights rarely or never takes place. " In such a community all are nearly equal. There are none of those wide distinctions of education and ignorance, wealth and poverty, master and servant, which are the products of our civilization; there is none of that widespread division of labor which, while it increases wealth, produces also conflicting interests ; there is not that severe competition and struggle for existence, or for wealth, which the dense population of civilized countries inevitably creates. All incitement to great crimes is thus wanting, and petty ones are repressed, partly by the influence of public opinion, but chiefly by that natural sense of justice, and of his neighbor's right, which seems to be in some degree inherent in every race of man. Now, although we have progressed vastly beyond the savage state in intellectual achievements, Ave have not advanced equally in morals. It is true that among those classes who have no wants that cannot be easily supplied, and among whom public opinion has great influence, the rights of others are freely respected. It is true, also, that we have vastly extended the sphere of those rights, and include 92 A FEW WOIIDS FROM JEFFERSON. within them all the brotherhood of man. Bnt it is not too mneh to say that the mass of our population have not advanced beyond the savage code of morals, and have in many cases sunk below it." This argues as badly for the influence of our present civilization upon the morals of a people as it does favorabh' for jDublic opinion as a ruling power. As, however, the moral question will come up again further on, it is the foregoing evidence given of the restraining power of public opinion to which I would more particularly call the reader's attention. As further evidence of the salutary power of jiublic opinion, I will here quote a few sentences from one of our most eminent early statesmen. Thomas Jefferson wrote, "I am convinced that those societies [as the Indians] which live without gov- ernment enjoy in their general mass an infinitely greater degree of happiness than those who live under European governments. Among the former public opinion is in the stead of law, and restrains morals as powerfully as laws ever did anywhere. Among the latter, under pretense of governing, they have divided their nations into tAVO classes — wolves and sheep. I do not exaggerate ; this is a true pict- ure of Europe " (Tucker's Life of Jefferson, I., 255). It being an unquestionable fact that a lax moral sentiment is the legitimate outgrowth of the system of individual property, to speak of the necessity of a more exalted moral sentiment being created before we can expect any tery material change in our prop- erty system might, at first sight, appear inconsistent; but still another great fact is this (as I shall endeavor to show in a future chapter), that, notwithstanding THE CHIEF BONE OF CONTENTION. 93 the corrupting influences of our existing property system, the moral standard of the people continues steadily to advance. Not stopping to enlarge further upon these mat- ters, let us now j^roceed to put our existing system of government under examination, that we may be able to discover, if possible, whether the self-assured politician and legislator who may deride my idccd have much of which they may fairly boast in their real. I shall not contend that our system of government is not, perhaps, the best that has ever been estab- lished upon the earth (except it be those described by Wallace, where public opinion was the ruling- power); and it is not with other existing or past sys- tems of government that I would ask the reader to compare our own, but with an ideal government of the future, to be established when that element which is the chief bone of contention with our own and all prior governments has passed into oblivion. I refer, of course, to the S3-stem of individual property, to protect which governments and laws are now and ever have been principally instituted. To compress the matter into a sentence, our republic, in common with all other civilized nations, first incorporated into its system a fundamental principle naturally calculated to make rascals of all its people ; and when this Pandora's box of evils has once been opened wide, the government attem]3ts to mitigate the baneful effect by putting into execution a code of arbitrary laws. Now, granting that our system of government has been as successful as any other in its attempt to 94 THE UNIVERSAI^SUFFRAGE DELUSION. restrain, after letting loose, these evils, experience Las already shown, I think, that to overcome them through laws is an utter impossibility. The only feasible course for effecting a cure is to remove the cause — strangle the mother that gave, and still gives, most of these evils their being. But the reader will perhaps be better prepared to judge of this suggestion after following the writer in his examination of our existing system of government and laws. Broadly speaking, the function of our government really consists in concocting, framing, and putting into execution a code of almost innu- merable laws. I shall first speak of the modus operandi for the election of those who are to devise and enact our laws, as well as those who are to execute them. Sec- ondly, I shall call the reader's attention to their execution ; and, lastly, to the character of these laws. At the very threshold of the subject, we are con- fronted by an injustice of the most flagrant char- acter, and an anomaly not a little remarkable. AVe pompoush' claim to have " universal suffrage," when the fact is that (leaving out minors of both sexes) one-half of our adult population have not even so much as the right to vote in the election of the offi- cers who are to make and execute the laws which they are expected to obey. In what way, let me ask, Avould it be possible for us to heap a greater insult upon the heads of our mothers, wdves and daughters? By this action we virtually stamp them as imbeciles, unfit to exercise the prerogative of government along with this wonderful creature, this throat-splitting. THE OKIGIN OF SLAVERY. 95 dunghill-crowing, peacock-strutting, turkey-gobbler swelling male superior! So, witli all our boasted rights of lil)erty and equal- it}', woman is to-day regarded and held under our Diodd system of government as the inferior, the jjolitical slave, of man. Civilized, as we call our- selves, and living in tliis " enlightened age," we still put this brutal afl'ront upon our mothers, wives, and daughters. To be a slave is not necessarily to be bought and sold. To be a slave is to be deprived of liberty — to be domineered over by others. Is not this precisely woman's position Avhile amenable to laws she has no voice in constructing or administering ? This slaver}" of woman, as also the slavery of man, originated from precisely the same conditions that gave birth to private property. In fact, slavery was, in our republic, until our own generation, a part and portion of this nefarious institution, for both man and woman were held as private property. This custom originated when reason and justice were but little, if at all, considered — when might made right. Whatever was wanted by the stronger to appease his hunger, to add to his pleasures, or to gratify his pas- sions, was taken from the weaker without as much as saying, "By your leave !" With all the light that has now been shed upon the world, that we should go on from age to age retaining the vile wrongs of h barbarous era is one of the eccentricities of human nature for which it is difficult to assign any reason- able cause or excuse. No country is entitled to be called free or civilized while a vestige of this bar- barism of human slavery is still retained, whether 96 OUR LEGISLATIVE MACHINERY. its injustice falls iipou either luau or woman. I would here make the qualifying statement that one reason is obvious why woman has so long been left without a voice either in the making or iu the execu- tion of the laws by which she is expected to abide ; and that is, that our political hacks and aspirants w'lio virtually control these matters are no doubt actually ashamed to have mother, wife, or daughter know what nefarious scamps they are in conduct- ing the afiairs of state, as would be the case were women admitted to the political arena. That such an inference is fairly w^arrantable I think will be- come apparent as we proceed. For the administration of government, the framing, enacting, and execution of all laws j^ertaining to the country at large, we have in our republic our legis- lative bodies at Washington. Each state has also similar bodies ; and, besides, each important city or borough is privileged to make and enforce its own local ordinances. I shall not stop to partic- ularize further, since our legislative and executive S)'stems are familiar to all. After having left out the women as imbeciles in the machinery of our govern- ment, let us look into the methods of their male " superiors " for the election of public officials. We M'ill commence with the small town or borough. Almost every township has its village, in which may be found those who are the leaders in local politics. If the village is large, there may be several who have lively political aspirations ; but it usually happens that one or two excel in the natural qualifications essential to their profession, and who, possessed of some little means or the art of making a living with- THE POLITICAL BELL-WETHEK. 97 out labor, have the leisure to bestow upou i^olitics the most of their attention. One or two individuals of this stamp soon make themselves the pivot upon which all the political affairs of the township re- volve. As the village political " bell-wether " has marked characteristics, and is quite a genius in his way, both the man and his tactics will require a little attention here. The predominating attributes of the fellow's nature are assurance, shrewdness, tact, and discretion, combined with trickery, hypocrisy, and utter selfishness ; but his wonderful precaution in a great measure hides these latter characteristics. Too lazy to work, in early life he resolves upou getting his living by his wits, for which purpose his natural shrewdness and tact avail him w^ell ; and if an oj^por- tunity is presented, he is likely to attach himself to some successful business enterprise in which he will have much to say and little to do. He is plastic — ■ that is to say, he is capable of molding himself into almost any form which occasion may require, and through this quality gains much favor in the eyes of the public. If a strong religious sentiment prevails in the township, he attends the churcli meetings and talks like a saint ; if it be temperance, he is equally loud in proclaiming its virtues — though if it happen to be at a time nearing an election, he is quite likely, as he leaves the temperance meeting, and before directing his steps homeward, to steal into the back door of some low groggery and take a few social drinks with some favorite cronies who will not " blow on him." His manner is not inclined to stiffness, but he is social with all, particularly at the beginning of his career, or upon the eve of an election. 98 A VILLAGE CZAR. He has some gift for public speaking, and this is greatly assisted by his wonderful egotism and self- poise. He grants favors at times, apparently in the most unselfish manner, but, rest assured, he expects to have both jjrincipal and interest back at enormous rates of increase. Friendship, uninfluenced by self- interest, he has no knowledge of ; neither is there such a thing as a sense of gratitude in his composi- tion, his inherent selfishness making him oblivious to all favors of a generous nature. This bell-wether of politics is, in short, a whited sepulcher, a consummate villain at heart, but with such admirable tact that he passes currently as re- spectable. Through the coterie which he draws around him, he secures and maintains the popular favor, and for a time — often for a succession of years — he rules his little township Avitli a sway almost as desjiotic as that of the Czar of Russia. To secure this influence and power, organization is of course necessary, and at the commencement of his career one of the first things our political autocrat does is to hedge himself about with a cabinet of congenial spirits. In the selection of his cabinet, gifted as he is with great discernment, he seldom makes a mistake, but succeeds in surrounding himself wath those who will lend influence and popularit}- to his administra- tion, and at the same time will be molded and fash- ioned to his own will. If a lawyer of the right stamp can be found — which is not usually diflicult — he pre- fers to select from this jDrofession his chief of staff. The individual who allows himself to be drawn into our political autocrat's proposed ring is likely, of course, to be endowed with many characteristics THE FIRST LIEUTENANT. 99 similar to tLose of his master, and 3'et, it is probable, will be unlike liim in many respects. As we always have two prominent parties in the field, it is not at all unlikely that the henchman may belong to the one opposing that of his chief, as his influence and power in such a case may often be made much stronger. The ring contemplated, having no further object than the honors and spoils of office, is formed upon the mutual- consideration principle — a sort of " you tickle me and I'll tickle you " understanding. Our lawyer, we will say, belongs to the politi- cal party ojjposite to that of his leader, and is of the self-styled " highly respectable " class, or is, in other words, one of the aristocrats of the village. He be- longs to one or another of the most aristocratic churches, and is one of its chief pillars. He attends the prayer meetings and all the social gatherings of the church, and exhorts frequently and piously upon such occasions. He prides himself, perhaps, upon his cpialities as a speaker, and attends all public gatherings which in his opinion may be regarded as very respectable, in order that he may find an oppor- tunity for making an oratorical display, and therein' increasing his popularity. He knows little of his profession, being too superficial to apply himself to its study ; and what little law he is master of it is more than probal)le he picked up among his brother lawj-ers. With the exception of the few traits here mentioned, together with some others, he is much like his master— lacking, however, the jieculiar organ- izing ability of that individual. But he has all the subtle hypocrisy of his chief, and can talk sweetly and piously to ^-ou by the hour ; rubbing his long 100 OTHER MEMBERS OF THE RING. bony finders iu true Uriah Heep style, while he is inwardly plotting some dirty sclieme for your ruin. It is necessarj', now, for our autocrat to have a rendezvous, where he can meet often with the rank and file, and display to them his ejreat political at- tainments and demonstrate to them what a wonderful fellow he is. He finds this, usually, at one of the village stores ; and, as all merchants like to see a jjjood many around, thiuking it good for trade, the proprietor is soon under our autocrat's infiuence, and the ring is now fairly formed. Any scruples Avhich may trouble the conscience of the merchant in con- necting himself with such a ring are soon overcome by the craft of the leader in foreshadowing to him high hopes of the honor and profit winch are to be his portion in the future. The merchant is perhaps naturally an honest man, but is weak; he has not the necessary strength of mind to withstand the subtle sophistries and temptations with which he is assailed, and finally binds liimself over to this Meph- istopheles, body and soul. He, too, is likely to be an active church-member, which position lends great weiglit in rural townships. Being naturally pleasant in manner, polite and courteous to all, he is, of course, quite popular. This trio now forms the inner circle of the ring. Perliaps, if the village is large, and the right material is to be found, tAvo or three more may be admitted into the inner circle, but the leader is too wary to admit any whom he cannot mold to his will. He prefers, beyond this, for the accomplish- ment of his purposes, attaches for special objects, which so influential, and apparently so respectable, a league finds no difficulty in procuring. These, THE LEAGUE IN WORKING ORDER. 101 however, are never admitted into the innermost sanctum. The league now formed, the next step is to pjet con- trol of the local journal, if there be one published. This done, nothing derogatory to the members of the league is published ; pet schemes of their concoction are advocated ; their interests in general are fur- thered and their dignity and influence increased by published references to them, and by the use of their names in a laudatory manner in connection with some local or political matter in -which they have been con- cerned. To add to their prestige, they secure a few shares of stock in a bank, or in some manufacturing corporation, if such there be in the place. In these enterprises their skilful maneuvering is likely to give to each a directorship, and not improbably a com- plete control, culminating ultimately, of course, in the grief of the stockholders and in their own indi- vidual gain. They have now secured positions which cause them to l)e looked ^^p to by the uninitiated as prominent and highly respectable individuals. This lends great influence in securing to them the popular favor. Still our crafty leader is not content to stop here. He has, in the manner stated, put himself in the way of influencing the church-goers and those in the higher grades of society, but there is still an- other class ho must reach. He is of versatile make- up, and can not only conduct himself Avith circum- spection among the respectable, the moral, and the religious, but he can also enter the circle of the " unwashed," and chatter nnn'e fluently and tell a dirtier story than any of them. He is therefore, in a sly way perhaps at first, the frequenter of most of 102 THE SCIEN'CE OF ELECTIONEERING. the gi'oggerios in the vilhif^e, especially as election day approaches; and by his snjjerior mental caliber, joined with tact, free treating, and the fact of his stooping to mingle unostentatiously with the demo- cratic class, he is sure to win their favor and secure to him or his candidates their votes in almost solid phalanx. A Avhisper may run around among the un- sophisticated, perhaps, that this respectable political leader was seen in some corner groggery somewhat the worse for rum, telling riliald stories and drinking with the crowd ; but if so, it is at once suggested that this is one of the liberties permitted to political as- ])irants; and as he is strongly backed uj) and sus- tained by some of the most prominent, influential, and pious citizens, it of course ends in a whisper, and is overlooked. The league being at this point in good working order, and the time for election drawing near, the next move is to hold a primary, or caucus, for the choosing of delegates to a convention for the nomi- nation of candidates for the higher state and national offices. Our trio now put their heads together and make up a " slate," which is almost certain to be the successful one. The matter having been all "cut and dried" beforehand, our leader, or one of his satellites, is placed in the " chair," and whoever the ring have settled u])on is chosen, usually with little show of opposition ; or, if much adverse strength is displaj'ed, the matter is quickly disposed of by a vote of accla- mation, as it is called, which has been previously arranged ; arbitrary decision, in the midst of much confusion, is rendered in favor of the ring delegate, and thus the matter ends. Then in the conventions ELECTION. 103 tliemselves for the nomination of candidates for the higher offices, the matter is qnite as skilfully and successfully handled. The slate has previously been made up by a conclave of these " bell-wethers," and the whole matter so cut and dried that such a con- vention is little better than a formal farce. When we come to the election of officers, again the great strength of the league asserts itself. The can- didates for the higher offices having been designated b}- the convention, and the slate for local offices made •up by the ring, the activity now displayed by the league in laying their wires for the election of their candidates is truly wonderful. The leader, having little other business, gives to this his undivided attention, seconded Avell by his cabinet and their co-workers for months before the election, while honest people are attending to the duties of gaining a livelihood in an honest waj-. If the ring has been formed by selecting individuals out of the two principal parties, which is not uncom- monly the case, the game, so far as their township is concerned, is now completely in their hands. With candidates drawn from both parties, pledged to sustain the designs and purposes of the ring, all obstacles have been removed, and they have but to "walk over the course." This selecting from both x^arties to fill the offices is plausibly contended by the league and tiieir co- workers to be very fair and impartial, but the truth is that the candidates selected are the hypocritical knaves from both parties who care nothing for prin- ciples and are willing to lend themselves to a corru])t ring for the honors and spoils to be thereby derived. 104 WHY POLITICAL KINGS EXIST. Those not conversant with these matters have little idea how successfully the vote of a township may be, and often is, manipulated by a little shrewd ma- neuvering of this sort on the part of a few wily politicians. The result of such combinations, Avhich are com- mon throughout our land, is to make a complete farce of popular government. A township thus ruled is ruled as despotically, and at times as disastrously, as was the city of New York under the reign of the notorious Tweed. It may be held that such a ring would soon be broken up and its leaders denounced. The facts, however, show to the contrary; that this despotic sway of the few is often maintained for a series of years ; and that in a small township they often com- mand such a power that if an individual values his own peace of mind or private interests, it is danger- ous for him to expose and denounce their rascality. These leagues are therefore suffered to continue on from year to year, successful in their operations, probably unsuspected by the masses, yet known to the few, whose mouths are effectually closed b}^ prudence or lack of courage to attack so formidable a power. When not made up of individuals drawn from the two principal parties, these leagues cannot be quite so formidable, it is true, nor exercise so despotic a sway ; but the power of combinations formed in their own respective parties is by no means insignificant, and is quite sure of securing the vote of its party, if not of the township. If the vote is likely to be a close one, money flows as freely as whisky. The league knows well that if successful all expenditures THE PART THE VOTERS TLAY. 105 will be returned out of the public crib, increased, perhaps, a hundredfold. Thus it is that men are dickered M'ith for their votes as for their cattle. It is the two or three in every township who make poli- tics a study, a profession, who take control of the political machine. The masses are but jumpiuf^- jacks, who, in the hands of these political jugglers, perform at such times and in such manner as maybe directed by those who pull the wires. And when the true character of the average politician is remem- bered, is it to be wondered at that it is the dance of death to the most of our hopes, our aspirations and desires, which we are so often called upon to perform ? I have been somewhat minute in jDointing out the political corruption that exists in our rural districts, for the reason that many are under the impression that such corruption exists only in our large towns and cities, and that our rural districts are iisuall}' free from political intrigues and rascalities. Such not being the case here, what, then, may naturally be expected of the large towns and great cities where the temptation to corruption is far greater, and the chance of detection proportionately less? It is like the repeating not a thrice but a thou- sand times told tale to speak of the corruption prac- ticed in our large cities for the election of public officers ; and although it is a matter which may not be wholly ignored in this connection, I will try not to weary the reader with that to which our attention is so often called. Here I can hardly do better than to bring to my aid editorials that fell under my eye, while I had tbis subject under consideration, lOG A CASE IN POINT. from two repi'esentative journals of the two leading cities of our land. The " Evening Post," of New York, in its editorial columns, quotes from the Philadelphia "Ledger" substantially as follows : " The whole fabric of Philadelphia election affairs is permeated and undermined by fraud ; and it is doubtful if any return made is a fair and square count of the ballots of the qualified voters, as in every instance when an electoral district comes under close examination there is either an exposure of fraud or reasons for strong suspicion of rascality ; that comparatively few cases are examined, because the advei'se vote returned against the cheated candi- date is usually too heavy to allow of any inducement to carry the matter to a contest ; that so grese new 190 THE ESTIMATED COST OF rROTECTION. enterprises. But I do deny that either the extend- ing of employment through protection, or the in- creased wages secured thereby, are really a benefit, either to those directly emploj-ed, or to the wage laborer, or the farmer in the vicinity. Protection does not benefit the laborer by furnishing him with mechanical employment while there are numberless acres of unfilled soil in the country whereon he might maintain a far more comfortable existence. And protection does not benefit by increasing the wages of the laborer, for at the same time, to a pro- portion far beyond the increase in his wages, it enhances the cost of most or all that he uses or consumes. This may be denied, and a comparison between wages in our own country and in countries that have adopted free trade may be cited to dis- prove the assertion. But this comparison is by no means a proper one, for it is well known tliat the rate of wages in all new countries, with or without protection, is much higher than in old countries, as it also is in the newer portions of any one country. A comparison between wages in our own and in some of the old countries of Europe maintaining protection demonstrates not only that it is not protection which maintains a high rate of wages, but that protection has indeed very little to do with increasing the rate of wages. There is a test by which the losses the laboring community sustains through protection may be very closely ascertained. It is this : since all wealth springs from labor, finding the cost of maintaining protection gives the loss to the laboring community arising therefrom. This loss consists, in part, in the WHY THE SYSTEM IS MAINTAINED. 191 erection .iikI maintenance of custom houses, and the paying of officials and employees connected with the collection of duties. To these expenses must be added the enormous profits which find their Avay into the hands of the manufacturers of j^rotected wares — these profits arising from the increased and usually exorbitant prices which, through protection, manu- facturers are enabled to obtain for their wares. But even this does not begin to measure the cost of pro- tection or the great moral wrong which it inflicts upon the laborer. Protection is an infernal method for throwing the burdens of the state upon those least able to carry the load. In the enhanced cost due to protection of the pro- ducts Avhich the laborer uses or consumes, Jie is made to pay, chiefly, for the support of the govern- ment, while, as he usually has little or no property, it is a monstrous injustice to compel him to pay any- thing for this purpose. Like our senseless and un- righteous system of finance, protection is not main- tained because of a conviction that it is for the general good of the community, but because it is for the interest of the wealthy, who, not content with appro- priating in various other ways the earnings of the laborer, have concocted this scheme, which taxes him largely for their benefit. But if the levying of protective duties really ac- complished all that is claimed for it by its advocates, still I Avould not approve of it. He who upholds protection must be sectional and more or less selfish in his views. When we set the welfare of one por- tion off against that of another portion, we cannot regard the avIioIo family of man as one universal 192 THP: CHINESE RESTRICTION AN OUTRAGE. brotlierhood. If the people of one country are really benefited by protection, those of other countries are correspondingly injured by it. Hence, as we have no right to profit at the expense of another's comfort and happiness, protection is shown to be a moral wrong. But, as I have proved, protection does not benefit a people ; on the contrary, it is a positive injury to any peojjle adopting it. Intimately connected with this policj^ of protection y\ is the restriction which is sometimes placed upon immigration ; and notwithstanding its boasted the- ory' of afibrdijg equal rights and liberties to all mankind, I blush to own that this restriction is practiced in our country. The foulest blot upon the escutcheon of republican libertj' was placed there when the United States forbade the Chinamen to come to her territory to make his home. Why should not the Chinaman have extended to him the same privileges that are extended to the Englishman, Irish- man, Frenchman, German, or the people of any other land? These all came here in hopes of bettering their condition, as did the Chinaman ; and with the same expectations came the ancestors of us all. Has the Almighty given us such a title to the soil of these United States that we may rightfully exclude others of the human race who may choose to come and set- tle amone; us? I think not. If he has given sucli a title to any people, this people must be the native American, the Indian, and we are all usurpers, as were our fathers before us. Now supi^ose that any of the European, the Asiatic, or the African nations were to pass a law restricting us from settling in their domains, what, think jox\, INTEREST. 193 would be tlie result of sucli action? Why, a cry that would be heard around the earth w^ould go up from republican America against this subversion of international liberty. Correct we should be, too, in resenting vigorously and indignantly such interfer- ence with the natural rights of man. Governmental restrictions of this nature do not evince that spirit which leads to peace and harmon}-, to a universal brotherhood, and the " federation of the world," but rather that which leads to national strife, pillage, and wars. Another question connected with state functions, though standing, I think, upon more debatable grounds than those I have sj^oken of, must not be passed unnoticed. I refer to the propriet}' of the state's interfering with the matter of usury, or fixing of the rate of interest upon money. But prior to this question, and involved in it, is another to discuss of still greater imj^ortance, i.e., the exaction of a premium for the use of money at all. Many good men contend that this should be prohibited, and yet I would say at the outset that, direful as we shall soon see the results to be, I cannot discover why, under the existing property system, this exaction is not quite legitimate, or how it can be avoided. Under the system of individual property, money in the hands of individuals or corporations is as much their own as is any other property, to do with as they may desire ; and the right of exacting ;i premium for its use is as legitimate as it avouUI be to charge rent for a house, or for the use of any property Avhatever. "Were the taking of interest forbidden by law, as some think it should be, while 194 iNVAsm: laws against usury. tlie privilege of exacting a premium for the use of lands and other property still remained, it -would cause a complete deadlock of tilings at once. Those holding property from which an income could be derived would be unwilling to exchange it for mone}^, which would bring in no income Avhatever. More- over, if the use of whatever is wholly my own is wanted by another, I have the natural and legitimate right to demand whatever premium I may desire for its use, it being at the option of the other to take it at my i)rice or not at all ; and the public has no legitimate right to interfere. Such laws, therefore, as we have in our own and other countries, restrict- ing the amount of premium or interest to be paid for the use of money, are clearly as much an infringe- ment upon the rights of the individual as would be laws restricting the amount of rent which should be received for the use of a house or other property. If I am the owner of a house worth $20,000, I am not restricted as to what rent I may exact for the use of it. Were I to sell the house, receiving $20,000 in consideration, why, then, any more, should I be I'estricted from exacting such a premium .as I may demand for the use of the money received in pay- ment for the house ? Another objection of the strongest character to any legal regulation of the premium to be paid or received for the use of money, is its impotence, or futility, it being well known and often pointed out that under such laws a higher premium is likely to be obtained than where no laws of the kind exist. And so upon examination we see it is jjlain that the right of individual property once granted, no restriction whatever can rightfully or THE MORAL ASPECT OF INTEREST TAKING. 195 effectually be put upon the lioklers thereof, as to what premium they may exact for the use of it, Avliether it consists of real propert}^ or money, its re])resentative. Exactini^ a high rate of interest for money is often objected to, also, upon moral grounds ; but I fail to see the difference, morally, between exacting an excessive rate of interest for the use of money which is the representative of property, or an excessive premium or rent for the use of the property itself, a matter which no moralist ever attempts to call in question. But while justice and good sense must accord to the individual full control over what society has declared to be absolutely his own, we find that acting upon this decision is sure to lead to results the most deplorable. And herein lies one reason, to my mind the most overpowering, why the system of individual property should be abolished. Under the regime of private property, the able in the art of mone}- getting — the acute, the shrewd, the sharp, the iinscrupulous/e?f — have provided for them, in this matter of interest or a premium for the use of money, a means whereby they may gather into their hands the accumulated reserves of the toiling millions with a power as irresistible as that by which the great Norwegian maelstrom draws down into its vortex whatever may venture within the circle of its in- fluence. A beginning once made, a little capital once accumulated, and then, like the boy's ball of dam]\ fresh snow, that gains size as it is rolled along until it rises into a thing of huge proportions, the accumulations of the able and the shreAvd gather to themselves, by means of premiums exacted for the 196 HOW DID VANDERBILT GET HIS FORTUNE? use of capital, the reserved products of the labor of the multitude, until they ultimately lap up the con- served accumulations of a world. I know it is contended that huge fortunes are apt to dissolve and melt away ; that what the father gathers, the children scatter, and I shall not den}- that this is often the case ; but I hold that this is by no means general, for we shall find, if we will but take the pains to in- quire, that the bulk of the large fortunes to-day lie -in the hands of those who have inherited them. And even when fortunes are dissolved and scattered, into whose hands do they fall? Do they not fall again into the hands of the very same class who held them before — of the shrewd, the unscrupulous ; into the hands of those who have a talent for money get- ting and money hoarding? To illustrate this proposition, let us take an ex- ample. Cornelius Yanderbilt accumulated during his lifetime, it is said, 8100,000,000. How much is it to be supposed that Cornelius Vanderbilt produced by the labor of his hands ? It is safe to say that it would not have gone far toward making up this colossal sum. How much did he produce by the hibor of his brain that realh' added to the world's wealth ? Admit that his talent for organization was such that under his superintendence much labor was so wisely directed as to save injudicious expenditure, and that thus much of the product of labor was saved to the world's wealth ; and yet is it supposable that it Avas through this source that he rolled up the im- mense fortune he left behind at his death ? Suppose that such were really the case, then the moral ques- tion arises, should he and his alone have reaped the NOT STOLEN, BUT APPROPEIATED. 197 result of what was saved by Ins wise and judicious direction, or should those benefits, save a fair, a lib- eral remuneration for the service he rendered, have been shared by the people at large '? But it Avould be unprofitable to discuss further the subject from this point of view, since it is not supposable that his huge fortune was acquired in any such way. It was accumulated by so manipulating property, as it fell from time to time into his possession, that a promi- nent share of the aggregated reserves of earth's toilers far and near fiowed spontaneously into his hands. He did not produce his fortune by the labor of his hands ; he did not add tliis amount, or any- thing approximating it, to the world's wealth, by the labor of his brain ; he appropriated it out of the re- served fund of the world's producers. He did not steal it outright, in the sense in which people under this system of individual property have accustomed themselves to use that word ; he "appropriated" it under the legalized approval and sanction of a civil- ization, the elastic morals of which are in keeping with the institution of property wliich it maintains. And now what fiirtlier? k. single individual, un- der this just, mujiificent, and humane system of property, having a]ipro]iriated to his own use and behoof S100,000,000 of the earnings of a countless number of the "hewers of wood and drawers of Avater" — wliat next? TVliy, he dies, nnd leaves the bulk of his fortune to a beloved son, whose principal contribution to the Avorld's stock of wealth has been — well, let somebody else tell. Now comes an illus- tration of this system of interest, which is the natural concomitant of the S3'stem of private prop- 198 THE MONEY-GETTING TALENT. ert}". It is said that this l)eh)ved son's income, arismo; wholly from the use of his property, is $10,000,000 per annum. Suppose, now, he saves half that ; it would then require less than a generation to double his huge fortune, besides allowing ample, I think, for luxury and waste. Think of it, joii upon whom common sense has been bestowed, and tell us in the name of all that is fair, honest, and intel- ligent, how it is possible to prevent the earnings of the masses from floating into the hands of the few en- dowed with power for acquisition, any more than it is possible to prevent the rivers from flowing into the sea. And will it be contended, then, that the bulk of the people's wealth should justlv and wisel}' lie in such hands? If so, and if such is ever to be the drift of things, then farewell to the comfort, the prosperity, the happiness of the great mass of humanity upon the earth. Under such a decision of fitness and justice those possessing the intel- lectual and moral attributes of a Plato, an Aristotle,, a Shakspere, or a Milton might fitly drag out a mis- erable existence of destitution and want, provided they possessed not also a talent for money getting and money hoarding. Men are born and developed with a variety of talent, all of which is essential and valuable to the race, and yet few have a talent for the accumulation of property, except in a very moderate degree ; and is a system of property forever to be recognized as the correct one that enables the few who have a superior fitness for its acquirement to monopolize most of the material blessings of earth, leaving the MY POSITION DEFINED. 199 masses to (lrudt;e on in poverty, as tlie inferiors of these money grabbers, their suppliants, their slaves? From the bottom of my soul I detest and abominate such a system, and, to me, the wonder of wonders is that mankind has endured it to this age of the wcjrld's civilization. I will here define my position upon this subject of property, so that hereafter there may be no chance for mistaking what it is, should there have been here- tofore. Whatever the individual produces by the labor of his hand or brain, that is in an}- way valuable to mankind, so far has he contributed to the world's wealth. Whatever the individual consumes or wastes beyond what he has thus produced, so far has he im]ioverislied the world ; so far has he trespassed upon others' rights ; so far has he appropriated to himself that which justly belongs to others. This is excusable when, and only when, he is physi- cally or mentally incapacitated for performing his just share of the duties of life. Under the system of collective property which I advocate, whatever the individual produces more than he consumes would be left as an heirloom, not to family or special friends, but to the race — a free gift, after the manner in which nature supplies her bounties. And this I believe to be the broad, the benevolent, the humane spirit that must find universal acceptance among mankind before that high altitude in the M'orld's civilization can be reached that shall insure to the race the comfort, prosperity, and hap- piness so ardently longed for by all. A mode of life so glorious as this being impracticable under the system of individual property, I therefore aver that 200 TWO GRAND PURPOSES. our system is founded upon a principle of injustice, and that as it cannot be justly maintained, it should be supplanted by one that can. Now, I would not have it understood, from Avhat has been said here, that, under the existing sys- tem of individual property, I believe it to be morally wrong for an individual to accept of a premium for the use of capital. I make no sancti- monious pretensions of this character. It is the s^'stem, not the individual who conforms to it, that I am combating. In truth, I think the individual would be doing himself injustice were he to allow any conscientious scruples to stand in the way of his accepting a premium for the use of his capital. Many other important instances might be cited wherein government interferes with that with which she should not concern herself ; many miglit also be named wherein she should take control which are now left wholly to individual and corporate man- agement. But as the great question. What are the proper functions of a state ? finds answer throughout this entire work, I shall devote no more space to it here. To establish an entire paper currency, and to issue it for the purchase of the great public works of our land, are two among the grand purposes to be con- summated in the next half century. CHAPTER YIII PEODUCTION AND DISTEIBUTION. In tlie New Bepublic a supervision over production, and the complete management of the distribution of all products, wore entrusted to the government. A general superintendent for this department, and dep- uties for each of the cities (distributive marts), were chosen by the House of Magistrates for the same time, and under the same rules and regulations prescribed for the officers of the bureau of public improve- ments. The office of the general superintendent of commerce was in the capitol building at St. Louis, and the office of the deputy superintendent in each of the cities was at Commerce HaU. In addition to a clerical force sufficient to transact the business of his office, each deputy superintendent was assisted by a number of officers (more or less, ac- cording to the amount of business transacted) called Investigators. The government being the purchaser and importer of all commodities brought into the republic, and managing the sale of all productions, both foreign and domestic, all articles for distribution were stored at its warehouses in the different cities, and the In- vestigators' duties Avere to keep a close watch of the stock in store of all the different wares, and report to the deputy superintendents of commerce whenever 201 202 DISTRIBUTION IN TEE NEW REPUBLIC. any required replenishing. An exception to this method of storage was made in the case of articles which from their great weight or bulk were incon- venient for retaining in warehouses. Steam-engines, coal, blocks of stone, marble, etc., came under this head, and were moved directly from the place of production to their place for use. Upon the report of the Investigators that the supply of any commodity needed replenishing, the deputy superintendent of commerce receiving such information communicated either by post or tele- graph with the deputy superintendent at the foreign port or ports, inland city or cities, or to the secre- tary of any community or communities within his OAvn precinct where such commodity Avas produced, making known his requirements. In case it was a foreign order, whenever a disengaged vessel from the port, or an adjacent port, from whence the order came, was hing at the port, or any of the ports adjacent to that by which the order was received, the cargo, in case the order was sufficient to load a ves- sel, was quickly dispatched by her ; but in case the order was not sufficient to load a vessel, she then remained until a full cargo could be secured, as no vessel was allowed to sail half empty or in ballast, as at the present time. In case of haste the cargo was sometimes forwarded by a vessel of the republic to which the order had been given, wdiicli remained upon her arrival out until a cargo could be secured for her return. The country communities forwarded their products for market, both agricultural and mechanical, to the warehouses within the city of their own precinct. FIXING PRICES OF COMMODITIES. 203 Exceptions to this rule arose iu tlie case of some of the principal articles for export, such as grain, cot- ton, etc., which were usually stored at the seaboard ports awaiting demand. A printed list of the various commodities usually- stored in the warehouses of his precinct was made l)y the deputy superintendent iu each city, a copy of which was forwarded to each deputy superintendent of commerce iu each city of the globe, also to each of the communities of his own precinct. Each com- munity was kept constantly advised by the deputy superintendent of commerce in their precinct of the stock in store, whether large, small, or medium, of the article or articles of their particular manufact- ure, and the demand for the same. The production was then increased or diminished in accordance, and in case of the demand for any particular commodity exceeding the facilities for production, the facilities were extended by introducing its manufacture into other communities. Agricultural production was also regulated so far as practicable by a similar proceeding, and it was the requirements of the people that determined the pro- duction both agricultural and mechanical. The price of all commodities was fixed as near as could be calculated, by the producer, upon the cost of production. Each distributive mart, or city, had also three arbiters, a])pointed by the deputy super- intendent of commerce for the purpose of adjusting any question of difference which might arise in the fixing of prices. A charge to cover the cost of transportation, both of individuals and freight, and a commission to cover 204 A VERDICT ASKED FOR. tlie expense of disposing of all commodities, was made by the government. Accounts Avere made up quarterly, and a remittance made for the payment of all commodities after deducting freights and com- missions. Each community purchased all supplies required in the city of their own precinct. The intent was to afford each community, so far as prac- ticable, equal privileges in the disjaosal of their productions, thereby insuring to each equal ojjpor- tunity for success. It may be regarded as presumptuous to have at- tempted outlining in a few pages, as has been done here, a general plan, and that so simple, for the ac- complishment of purposes so vast ; yet the question is not one of simplicity or of elaborateness and com- plexity ; but it is whether the plan would work suc- cessfully under .a system of collective property, as it is not pretended that it would under the existing property system. Let it be examined, and the decision rendered with all candor whether the structure of our system for production and distribution of products, based as it is upon a foundation of collective property, is equal to the purpose for which it is designed, or beyond the reach of human possibilities. I may have over- looked in the construction some important element that would be necessary to comj^lete the system and put it in running order ; but it does seem to me that the outline here given bears assurance on its face that the system I have marked out might be found emi- nently practicable under the conditions for which it is intended. Admitting such to be the case, the macfuitude of the benefits which would accrue to THE DISADVANTAGES OF COMPETITION. 205 mankind tlirough the change it contemplates would be simpl}' incalculable. Simple as is the system briefly outlined here, in the New Ilepublic it had been equal to the blending of mankind together in unity for the accomplishment of a grand and noble purj^cjse, and that purpose no less than to provide amply, even la^dshly, for all the wants of man's animal nature. The art of providing for these wants was no longer loft to blind chance — to isolated individual, and thci\^fore, in the great majority of cases, to impotent eiibrt— but it had been reduced to a system in which there was forethought, well-devised and well-regulated mutual plans in preparing for, as well as harmony and combined action for securing, its accomplishment. I shall defer giving any further particulars of the workings of the new system for a subsequent chapter ; my further object in this being to jDoint out the dis- adcanfcKjes, the enormous icaste, and the terrible injus- tice of the existing competitive system — or, rather, the blind chance efibrt, as there is no system about it. As stated in a former chapter, I regard this blind, headlong, reckless, haphazard rush forward, upon the indi\ idual competitive plan, as the most serious, the most injurious, the most pernicious feature, in the economy of human aftairs, and it is in the mat- ter of production and distribution, more than all others, that its evils become apparent. It Avill be noticed that the system herein outlined efiects an organization and arrangement for regulat- ing the supply of all products to the demand. An incalculable evil of our existing competitive system of production and distribution lies in the fact that 206 OUK HIT-OK-MISS PRODUCTION. under it there is not, nor can there be, any way de- vised for doing this. Every manufacturer must "go it blind " as to whether there may not already be in the countr}^, of the very article he is producing, a stock sufficient to supply the normal demand for a score of years to come. And all do "go it blind," trusting to their wit, skill, energy, or impudence, for crowding their wares off, whether required or not. As we sliall soon see, the chances usually are that there is already a surfeit of their wares stowed away upon the shelves of millions of distributors that have really no legitimate call for their occupation. Let us now make a brief examination of our present methods of production and distribution, with a view to discovering their adequacy to the public require- ments. The S3'stem I have brought forward assumes an intelligent supervision over all productions; though it is presumed that this could be made more complete and effective over manufactures than over the products of agriculture. The latter, de- pending so much upon the vicissitudes of nature which man has not the knowledge or power to control, cannot be conducted with the precision of mechanical production ; and 3'et this does not prove that intelligent supervision, in a general way, of the agricultural productions of a country may not be found exceedingly beneficial. Employing the means of ascertaining at any time what is approximately the quantity in store of the principal cereals, and ascertaining also from advices and statistics the probable foreign demand, an intel- ligent judgment could be formed of vast benefit in determining the acreage to be devoted to any par- ISOLATED FAEMING. 207 ticular production. Surplus of some cereals and. scftrcity of others might thus be prevented to a great extent. Overproduction in agriculture, how- ever, does not cause a waste equal to that which is caused when there is overproduction in manufactures ; because if an article of food is scare, and, therefore, dear, while another is abundant and cheap, people, as well as domestic animals, may often accommodate themselves to the use of the latter. It is a general underproduction, therefore, more than overproduc- tion, that is to be feared in agriculture. More especially will this be true so long as the calling continues as unpojiular as now ; which, again, must continue so long as the sj'stem of isolated farming remains in vogue, and a miserable pittance is all that is afforded the farmer for his drudgery. Whether the fruits of agriculture are now pro- duced in cpiantities sufficient to satisfy the wants of all mankind, is a question not easily solved. That many go hungry is certain ; but that many others revel in abundance, and destroy or waste more than they consume, is no less true. It cannot be deter- mined, therefore, whether by an equal distribution the present production would or would not be adequate to the wants of the entire people. If, how- ever, the total production be equal to the total want, nothing is more clear than that it is effected by ex- cessive and unreasonable toil on the part of the agricultural community. From " earlv morn till dewy eve," the farmer toils, and if we have not now in the aggregate an excessive agricultural production, then it is plain that the number engaged in farming is smaller than it should be. 208 WHAT IS THE DIFFICULTY? The present hours of hibor of the average farmer shouhl be reduced at least one-third, and in a well ordered system of industry there is no questioning that they might be reduced one-half. What, then, has put matters so out of joint? The causes are various, and many of them have already been alluded to in these pages ; but those most im- portant are excessive capital and the excessive labor noiu employed in mechanical production and in distribution in general, as %vell as excessive importation. Let us con- sider briefly this proposition. After a depression protracted for a term of years had closed the doors of many of our manufacturing establishments, and caused the remainder to run on short time, besides tying an indefinite number of vessels up to their wharves, Avhat may we now behold? From this continued depression, and a consequent check of manufacture and importation, the stock of manu- factured wares had no doubt become in some measure depleted ; and from a trifling demand thus arising, the result is that at this hour of writing the capacious stores and warehouses in our principal seaports, as well as those in many inland cities, are crammed to bursting with foreign wares, while an untt)](J number of vessels are on the seas laden with cargoes to be added to this I'edundance ; and, still further to swell this prodigious superfluity, we have, scattered all over the land, in rude hovel and in palatial structure, in numbers many times in excess of the normal demand for them, stores and ware- houses full to repletion with both foreign and domestic mechanical products, piled up for moth, rust, dirt, and vermin to destroy, or to be rendered EXCESS OF MANUFACTURING FACILITIES. 209 useless by that still more destructive factor, the mandate of fashion. There is little room for doubt that upon an average the overplus of both foreign and domestic manufactured articles in this country to-day is sufficient for the requirements of the people for a decade ; while, for the above stated and other reasons, a great portion of these, never being put to practical use, will be virtually sacrificed. What, then, does this demonstrate but that mechan- ical production is everywhere overdone, as it will continue to be overdone so long as the manufacturing facilities, both in this country and in Europe, remain in excess of the normal demand for them? In the United States, at least, these facilities are so far dis- proportioned to the demand for their products that hardly an article which is manufactured may not be produced in quantities from two to five times greater than are normally required ; and all over the laud stand huge factories, erected and supplied with ma- chinery at an immense cost, which, wdiile turning out but a fraction of what they are equal to ju'oducing, still glut the market wdtli their unneeded wares. And there is another consideration involved in this matter, of such moment as to call for our attention here. It is this : as soon as a trifling demand arises, these factories j^ut on all the help they can muster, drive ahead pell-mell, and after a few months of a rush of business the country is again so overstocked with their wares, that back they must come once more upon " half-time." The effect upon the em- ployees of this shuttle-cock sort of industry is most deplorable, and while the greater number find em- ployment but for about half their time, many others 210 A GAME OF HAZARD. constantly wait, like Micawber, for sometbinj]; to turn u]\ " Half-time !" as tlie matter now goes, the laborer having need for full emplo^'ment to provide for his family — I abominate it. I would delight to see the hours of the mechanic shortened, as well as those of the farmer, l)ut half-time and half-j)ay are the ruin of both. But the manufacturers will tell you that it is the best they can do ; they cannot run full time without vastly overstocking, and it is better to reduce the hours than to close up their factories a portion of the time and vxm the risk of getting their employees back again when wanted. As business is now run, no doubt this is true ; but, as the frog in the fable said to the boys who were stoning him, " It may be sport to you, but it is death to me." So it is death for the poor workman, particularly if he has a family depending on him for support, and his wages, when full}' employed, are no more than adequate to a comfortable existence. The truth is, some way should be devised to so restrict manufacturing facilities that when run up to the utmost limit of capacity their productions would not far exceed the normal demand. Such a system, I have no doubt, would let loose at least one-half the numbers at present employed, or half-employed, in factories, and put them where the}- properly belong, to wit, to cultivating and embellishing the earth. At present, manufacturing ventures are often a game of hazard bordering for uncertainty on the Stock Ex- change or the roulette table. Men are every day engaging in new enterprises for the production of such wares as the country is overstocked with, and for manufacturing Avhich the facilities are already THE PLEA FOR COMPETITION. 211 trebly abundant beyond all necessity for them. These men rarely stop to consider the facts of the case, but rush in, liopin<^ to win by chance or their ability to thrust aside those already engaged in the enterprise. I hold that in all such haphazard ventures both the capital and the labor employed are virtually sacri- ficed ; and, what is worse, a positive wrong is com- mitted toward those already engaged in similar pursuits. This is the great age of invention and mechanical improvements, and the introduction of labor-saving machinery should have had the effect of turning millions from mechanical to agricultural pursuits, or, if not needed there, to the construction of public improvements and the embellishment of the earth ; but such has not been the case. Instead, this surplus horde hang about the manufacturing establishments, working on half-time and drawing half-pay, the sufferers from the very inventions which, admirable as they are, add not a jot to the world's wealth or the people's comfort and happiness. Such are a few of the disastrous effects of compe- tition ; and yet ninety-nine men out of every hundred will tell us that competition is the saving grace in economics — an incalculable blessing which we could not get along without. It produces " cheapness," they say. But does it ? I know this is the almost universal belief, but it seems to me that as a fact it is at least questionable. Cheapness as compared with what? I ask. Why, the cheapness of competi- tion as compared Avith monopoly, of course, is the reply. Now, it little concerns my position whether com])etition, as against monopoly, does or does not produce cheapness, as what I am chiefly concerned 212 EFFECT OF OVERPllODUCTION ON PRICES. iu showing is the necessity of a new order of things, iu which there shall be neither competition nor monopol)'. Nevertheless there is, I think, consider- able doubt as to whether competition has at 2:jres3nt any advantage over monopoly as regards cheapness. The monopoly of an article, it is true, places its cost to the consumer in the hands of the holder or hold- ers. But monopoly has this merit, that Avhere a monopol}' of any mechanical production exists there is usually little waste, while under active competi- tion tlie waste is usually enormous. And this waste, as we shall soon see, is added to the cost of the com- modity to the consumer. AVhether, then, the cupidity of the producers of a monopolized commodity would promjDt them to fix such a price upon it as Avould more than cover the ivaste iu its production under competition is, of course, a difficult question to an- swer, and yet it is worthy of consideration. The assertion that overproduction, like underpro- duction, enhances the cost of commodities to the consumer may appear somewhat startling, yet it is unquestionably true. Overproduction increases the cost of mechanical productions by locking up the great overplus of capital invested in the facilities necessary to overproduction, as well as by locking up capital to carry the excess of manufactured wares. Our manufacturing facilities are, on the average, probably thrice as great as the call for their products demands. We see, then, how this works to enhance the cost of productions to the consumer. In not a few cases where the facilities are beyond the require- ments, buildings, machinery, etc., remain wholly idle ; the buildings to rot and tumble down, the machinery THE MANUFACTUBERS' METHODS. 213 to rust and become useless. I shall not claim that this enhances the prices of the commodity in the manufacture of which this caj)ital has been sunk, and I mention it here in passing merely to point out one more source of waste under haphazard adventure upon the individual j^lan. Capital thus invested is wholly lost to the world. Again, a still larger amount of capital which is locked up in mechanical production, though not wholly idle, is virtually useless ; and upon this the consumer has to pay a round interest by reason of the increased cost of commodities. This is perfectly plain. The manufacturer, in fixing prices upon his wares, provides for such a ratio of profit upon his estimated sales as Avill yield him, besides his current expenses and an equivalent for his own services, a handsome interest, or dividend, upon capital in- A'ested. It is the same, even though a large portion of such investment lies in excessive outfit, say in real estate, machinery and implements, half of which may never be in use, and the other half in use per- haps for only a portion of the time. He also provides for covering interest on any excess of stock which he may be carrying in warehouse or store. This is a law of trade that, if he would be successful, the busi- ness man cannot ignore. Some may violate it, but they will soon find themselves at the end of their rope. Manufacturers and merchants who thrive and of course it is only such who continue in busi- ness, and by whom most of our wares are made and sold — must ado])t this rule ; and the result is that the consumers must pay for all the expenses of competi- tion involved in overproduction of goods, overpro- 214 WASTE IN MANUFACTURE AND DISTRIBUTION. duction of the facilities for manufacturing them, and the interest on the capital invested in the overpro- duction of both. And so as overproduction by pro- ducing ivaate, and underproduction by producing monopoly, have the eiiect to enhance the price of the manufactured article to the consumer, we may see the necessit}' of devising some system to adjust the supply of all mechanical productions as closely as jiossible to the demand. This same law of trade which obliges the consumer to pay in the end for all superfluous investment ap- plies to distribution as well as to production ; and the Avaste in distribution is even greater than in pro- duction. In all our cities and villages over the land are structures for distributing our wares ranging in dimensions and cost from the towering edifice of iron, marble, granite, or brick, down through every grade, to the hovel in which old clothes and other cast-off wares are held for sale. Past all computation or comprehension is the amount of capital now sunk in superfluous outfit for distributing the products of nature and art— super- fluous, I call it, from the fact that under a well de- vised and intelligent system of distribution the purpose could be far better served with but a mere fraction of the present outlay ; and a redundance of stores means a redundance of commodities to fill them to make something like a respectable show. Herein Ave find the princi})al outlet for the overjiro- diiction we have just been regarding, and we may now begin to catch a faint glimmer of its magnitude. And yet the waste lies not only in the capital sunk in superfluous structurea and Avares for filling them, but LET US CONDENSE. 215 also iu the number of individuals, which the super- fluities themselves make it neccesssary to emplo}- at enormous expense to conduct the business. There is hardly a doubt that under a well or- buildings, we have but one — which would need to be but a trifle more capacious, jirobably, than either of the four, for the chances are that any one of these is carrying about as much stock as the community needs. We get rid, then, of three buildings ; of three stocks of goods almost equal to the stock retained in the remaining store ; three proprietors, and, without doubt, one- half or more of the clerks that were employed in the four establishments. Here, now, we get a pretty large saving, and tlie more stores, or distributive es- tablishments, there are in a place to be combined under one roof, or similarly combined under several, the greater the saving. Having now the wliole cus- tom of the community, at how much less the proprie- 216 HOW COMPETITION ENHANCES COST. tor of one store could afford to sell liis wares than when the custom "was divided up among four ! I do not say that he icould, but I do say that he could afford to sell at much reduced jjrices. / Now, reader, I am of the opinion that a community really does pay higher prices for their wares the greater the competition is, providing that competition remains permanent. For a time, perhaps, when an opposition store is first set up, active competition may cause a cut in prices ; but if there is capital behind the new comer, and if it is seen that he has come to stay, very low prices are not of long dura- tion. The situation soon resolves itself into this, that the new competitor has drawn a share of the patronage from each of the other stores, and now each, if all continue in business, must find a reduced sale for their wares. The result is that, obeying the laws of trade before stated, prices are enhanced rather than diminished. Each exj)ects to live by his business ; hence if sales are small, prices must necessarily be high. Though perhaps done tacitly, ' it is upon the same principle that the officials of four competitive railway lines existing where two would answer as well, get together and fix upon prices for transportation which allow them all to thrive. To lay down a general principle in a word, capital expended in any enterprise whatever beyond \ its normal requirements produces a ?m.sfe which must \be met with enhanced prices imposed upon the com- \munity at large. ' But the chief purpose of the writer, I repeat, is not to attempt to show whether the cupidity of monopoly or the waste of competition is the more burdensome CHEAP GOODS. 21? to the people, but to show the practicability and value of a system that would obviate both these evils. Whether or not the reader be of the opinion that competition as against monopoly is a promoter of cheapness, I think that from what has now been said he cannot fail to see that there is an enormous and incalculable loaste in our competitive efforts to carry on production and distribution, and that that waste must be borne by the consumers. Another evil of much importance, which can neither be eliminated nor mitigated to any considerable ex- tent under our existing method of competitive me- chanical production, is the practice of making and putting upon sale inferior and often the most worth- less goods. The amount of material and labor sacrificed in this way is beyond all manner of con- jecture. This class of goods are often as attractive in appearance as are those of a really durable make ; but when in the hands of the consumers, they hardly offer an equivalent for the time spent in their pur- chase and arrangement for use. They are the dearest goods purchased, and yet from their apparent cheap- ness they are largely bought, and bought of tenest, too, by those Avho can least afford to spend their money uselessl}'. Nor is the manufacture of these goods confined to the knaves, as is often supposed, but by this incorrigible comjjetition nearly all manufactur- ers find themselves driven to the manufacture of them. It might be thought that the public would eventually be led to discriminate against cheap and worthless wares, but this is by no means the case, and never Avill bo to any large extent, for the simple reasons that they are attractive in appearance, low in 218 ADULTERATION AND SACRIFICE. price, and, moreover, usually afford the dealer a bet- ter profit than those of a more durable make. Hence they will always be crowded upon the market. Then, again, there is the adulteration of products, which is almost universally carried on, which is eveH more pernicious than the manufacture of inferior wares, and which can never be eliminated or di- minished under our competitive system. The losses thus imposed upon the community are enormous, while in the same way health and life are in constant jeopardy. This matter of waste and of the enormous sacrifice of labor, consequent upon the lack of anything which may be properly called an industrial sys- tem, is one of such transcendent importance that I would have it deeply impressed upon the mind of the reader ; and yet enough, it would seem, has now been said in this and in former chapters to make any further elaboration of the subject uncalled for here. Having studied this matter closely, and reflected much upon it, I am strongl}' of the opinion that the larger portion — I have sometimes thought nine- tenths, even — of the entire labor of man's hands, is virtually sacrificed b}' the lack of a well-devised, world-wide S3'stem to guide him in providing for his animal wants. Let the reader consider well this prodigious, this incalculable, this almost incompre- hensible loaste, consequent upon conducting matters upon the individual, competitive plan, and I hardly think that he will regard as excessive the estimate of labor sacrificed which I have given here. As I have already said, our planet is no niggard, but yields- exuberantly of its bounties for the maintenance of all COMPETITION AS IT AFFECTS CHARACTER. 219 animal life upon its surface ; and were it not for the enormous waste consequent upon a lack of a well- devised system in the production and distribution of commodities, as well as in the industrial organization generally, the labor of men's hands and brains as now expended would soon fill the world to redun- dance with both the comforts and luxuries of life. To fully realize the prodigious extravagance of our competitive mode of production and distribution, it is necessary to compare it with some ideal sj'stem which is clearly within the scope of human possi- bilities — a system through which the requirements of the people all over the world may at any time be quite definitely known, and under which mechanical production, and to a great extent agricultural pro- duction also, may be so regulated to respond to these wants that there shall be neither over- nor under- production to any considerable extent — a system, moreover, under which the cost of distribution in general would be but a mere bagatelle compared with what it is under our present competitive lack of system. Let us now glance at the effect which competition has upon charade)' — upon the morals of the people. The natural outgrowth of the system of private prop- erty is comjjetition, and competition, too, in the lowest, meanest, and most depraved form — not com- petition in the endeavor to benefit the race, but to l)enefit self at the expense of the race by so man- aging as to appropriate what others have produced or in some manner acc[uired. Before regarding this subject of competition in its direct bearing, however, upon the individual in 220 HUMAN SELFISHNESS ENCOUIiAGED. trade, from a moral jsoiiit of view, let us for a moment trace out some of the moral evils arising from our existing systems of propert}', which may not be termed, perhaps, as strictly competitive. Let us suppose that from some natural cause, the crops of a country have failed, and the resources of its people have become depleted to an extent causing much distress, while in another land crops are ample, and grain elevators and warehouses are groaning beneath the weight of a surplus pro- duction. What say the people of the favored land now, in vieAV of these circumstances ? Do they say; "Now that we have been favored Avith exuberant crops we must send oar products out to this dis- tressed people at prices that are much lower than the usual average?" Not a bit of it. Such a humani- tarian doctrine is too weak, sentimental, and con- temptible for the average human being, educated under the benign influences of the system of private property. No, no; now is the time, they say, to take advantage of their necessities, and 2:)rofit by the distress of these miserable foreigners. Go about among the farmers, the manufacturers, the me- chanics, the merchants, the shippers, in a word, the entire people, when the crops in their own country have been gathered in abundance, and news comes of short crops and great depletion in foreign lands, which must bring a large demand for their surplus products, and you will see the happiest body of people that your eyes ever beheld. How jubilant they are, and with what fervor they clasp hands and congratulate each other over the good time coming and near at hand, when everything Avill go booming CHARITY. 221 up in consequence of these foreign wants. I Lave heard men who were reputed good, respectable citizens, even niemhers of Christian churches, ex- press great delight upon reading the news of a foreign war that had just broken out, thinking it would have the efltect to advance prices and make business prosperous in their own country. As regards prices, in sucli a case as I have cited above, everybody knows that the custom is for each and all to take the advan- tage of the situation for making every dollar out of it they possibly can. The farmer, refusing to sell except at a great ad- vance, crowds prices up to the highest possible limit he can hope to obtain ; transportation com- panies increase their rates of freight, and specula- tors (the worst of all) buy in surplus products, and manipulate the market to realize prices the most ex- orbitant. And so a whole community of Shylocks, without hesitation or scruple, take the advantage of their necessities to extract from an unfortunate, dis- tressed people the last pound of flesh, and drink of their very life's blood. It may be maintained that this is an unfair state- ment, and charities may be brought forward in exten- uation of the charge of Shylockism, or as a complete offset to it. A mitigation this may be, but hardly a justification of acts so inhuman and heinous. In the first place, charities are rarely extended until a people have become so impoverished that tliey have little or nothing left to buy with and are dying from starvation; when the last pound of flesh lias literally wasted from their bones and water has taken the place of blood. So long as they can pay, the motto 222 AN INCENTIVE TO ANIMOSITY. is, "Bleed them as effectually as possible." And so, what is the v.due, or wherein lies the humauitj, of charities extended to people under such circum- stances? First compel them to pay a double price for the food they are obliged to obtain from you, and when this can be done no longer, then dole out a miserable pittance which you would dignify under the name of charity ! And now let us see how competition affects char- acter, under the existing s^-stem of property. Although there are, no doubt, exceptions, it is well known that, as a rule, "two of a trade can never agree." And why is this except for a clashing of self-interests ? except that the almighty dollar steps in between ? Two professional men, or merchants, may be the best of friends when at a distance from each other, but bring them into such close proximity that in what they have to sell (be it professional service, or products of any kind) they commence to compete for the patronage of the community, and differences im- mediately arise. They may be discreet enough to hide their jealousies and animositias i:)artl3' — wholly, perhaps — but rest assured there is a latent feeling lurking there that rejoices not in the success of the rival. And is it not natural enough tliat a feeling of such a character should arise? I have established my- self, I will say, in some country village, either as a physician, lawyer, merchant, or mechanic, and the requirements of my special calling are barely suffi- cient for the support of m}^ family ; or if the village is large, there may be several following the same calling as myself who have already crowded the sup- THE MATTER STATED AS IT IS. 223 ply SO far beyond the legitimate wants as to afford but a meager support to eacli ; and now a rival, or two or three of them, come in with skill, capital, and ability to compete further for the patronage of the community. Before, I could hardly see my way clear for feeding, clothing, and educating those dependent upon me, which is the supreme object to which my life is devoted, and in comes this rival, or these rivals, now, which means either that my children must be stinted in food, scantily clothed, with extremely lim- ited advantages for an education, or that I must become a dishonest man and cheat my creditors, or in some other nefarious way provide what I am now by reason of this competition unable to j^rovide hon- estly. By the rules of trade and the customs of society, the rival has rights there equal with my own, and is heartily welcomed, no doubt, by the community, under the prevailing opinion that com- petition makes things cheap; but would I not be more than human, let me ask, if under such cir- cumstances I did not wish the interloper, with his brief, his physics, or his gimcracks, in Guinea or heaven ? There is no use mincing the matter, or making any sanctimonious pretensions to the contrary. Com- petition in trade has the direct effect of setting the heart of every individual against his rival, and of causing an enmity more or less bitter according as individual interests may be affected. And how in- genious, crafty, and iniquitous are the many strata- gems resorted to to get the best of rivals! The policy of the more wary and astute is often to endeavor, through a feigned semblance of friend- 224 BUILDING UPON RUINS. ship, to entrap liis rival by gaining liis confidence and dexterously causing him, in an unguarded mo- ment, to utter such language, or commit himself in such a manner, as shall prove injurious to himself and beneficial to his antagonist. The game of ])ump for the master}', resorted to in such cases as these, would be often amusing if it were not diabolical. Over a bottle of wine, or whisky, a couple of men sit down for a tilt, Avith the design on the part of one or both to outwit the rival, that each may gain something for his special advantage ; and many is the thrust given, and deftly parried, until the jiotations have become too deep for one, when the steadier nerve and more level head usually win the game. Another common recourse amons rivals is to seek to build themselves up by injuring their competitors — among professional men by blasting reputation for character or competency ; among merchants and man- ufacturers, by seeking to injure credit, or misrepre- sent and undervalue the equality of goods. Such are a few of the tricks out of the many that are resorted to by rival competitors to gain an advantage over their opponents for their own benefit. And so it will be seen that the natural result of our com- petitive system is to make enemies of all who are engaged in the same calling. Again, from him who has a tin whistle to him who has a railway to dispose of, there is a direct and powerful inducement to misrepresent, hoodwink, deceive, and lie. These detestable characteristics arise as spontaneously out of our system of prop- erty and individual competition as fleas from a heap of rotten compost ; nor are they confined to the mer- THE GAME OF QUITS. 225 chant, as is sometimes intimated, though in his occu- pation he may be oftener called upon to practice a sort of double-dealing duplicity ; but they prevail and abound among all classes of professions and callings wherein there may be anything whatever of which the possessor is desirous to dispose. To ob- tain the most for whatever one has to dispose of, and thus increase individual wealth, is the chief insti- gator of this category of contemptible wrongs. Go further and we shall find that the common result of this fierce and relentless competition is despair and crime ; and these often in forms the most hideous, desperate, and appalling. In such a game of quits, the Aveaker must inevit- ably go to the wall. The able in body or brain, and more particularly the latter, will prevail over the weaker, driving them to despair and often to death ; and were the weaker but the few, the result would be less deplorable, as there would be less to suffer ; but on the contrary those who are driven to the wall are the major portion of those who engage in the contest. Let any one who had an extensive ac- quaintance among the merchants of New York twenty years ago look around him and see what has become of those whom he was personally acquainted with at that time. But a fraction of these will he find in business here to-day. A few there are living in splendor and counting fabulous Avealth ; others have secured a competency and are living in comfort ; another fraction have found the struggle too severe, and have removed to the country ; a few more are still struggling on, barely maintaining a livelihood. But what has become of the rest,who were 226 AN OLD PROPOSITION REVERSED. probably iiine-tentlis of the whole? They have failed iugloriously ; the}' have been crowded to the wall. Take a little pains to inquire into their history, and you will be shocked at their wreck and ruin. Many went on apparently ]5rosperous for a time, but they were not equal to the emergency ; disaster came, and they sank beneath the weight of their misfortunes ; failure drove them to desjiair, and despair to intem- perance, debauchery, and squalor, while the last, perhaps, drove them to insanity, suicide, or a pre- mature death in some form. Others, again, who were forced to succumb to their disastrous fate, are still dragging out wretched lives as gamblers, forgers, swindlers, gutter-loafers, and quite likely some as thieves, highwaymen, burglars, and cut-throats. Go to the bottom ; trace out the history of these individuals, and you will find that the primary cause of all this wreck and ruin has been, almost invariably, a discouragement that has driven to despair arising from an incompetency to cope with rivals in this terrible, relentless, life-destroy- ing, competitive stnigr/lc. We hear of men not suc- ceeding in business on account of intemperance. Keverse this, and say that they have become intem- perate from inability to succeed in the desperate competitive struggle before them, and you will hit nearer the truth in most cases. But intemperance is but one of a thousand evils to which this ferocious competition leads, when it has driven its victim to despair. Thus reduced, men become indifferent, reckless, lose self-respect, are regardless of the opinion of others, and when it has reached this state, they are fit for any crime that WHY MEN SUCCEED OR FAIL. 227 belongs to the species. Men are often called "lazy" who are simply discoiiragecl ! Time and time again have they set out with the resolve to do and to be ; to work, to save, to amass a fortune ; but through a series of misfortunes, or lacking the natural endow- ment for success, they have been baffled at every turn, and sink back at last into indifi'erence or despair. Shall we say, then, that those who are so unfort- unate as to meet with disaster, or lack the ability for success in the art of money getting and money hoarding, deserve the fate that awaits them under the present system of property and ruthless compe- tition — deserve to be trodden under foot like dogs, and to lie in a corner and snap at the bone which is tossed to them by the more favored of their race ? But, you say, they lack '■'pluck,'''' and should keep on trying — should never give up. This is good advice, and worthy of being followed to the letter ; we should all, no doubt, make the most of our circumstances, and do the best we can ; but I want to say to you, man, so ready always with your advice, the chances are that you yourself have but little of the pliick you are so quick to recommend. You have been successful, perhaps, commencing at the bottom of the ladder and working your way up until you have reached the top, and amassed a fort- une. Well, if you have done this, you have been in some way favored beyond the common lot. The force of circumstances has carried you, probably, into some business to which you were naturally adapted, and nature has endowed you with the requisites of suc- cess in the art of money getting and saving ; but, for 228 OUR REAL HEROES. all this, millions of laborers now toiling for their daily bread may discount you in this very quality of pluck. Ignorant and degraded, unfavored by cir- cumstances that naturally lead to success, or without the ability to profit by them if so favored, many have toiled on from month to month, and year to year, from early j-outh until their white locks blossom for the grave, for the mere pittance which their labor has secured to them, and out of which must be sup- ported families whom they love as well as you love yours. Think of parents seeing their children scantily fed and clothed, without the means of education, or of dressing them decently to send to the public schools ; miserably housed, without comforts, without amuse- ments; in short, with little that makes life worth living, and then let them turn their eyes upon your elesant mansion, vour wife and children dressed in the height of fashion and bedecked with jewels; your magnificent studs and gay equipage ; your big din- ners ; your parties and amusements ; your country seat, wath all its luxuries ; your opportunity for travel and recreation ; and then when they have dwelt long upon these scenes, as you need not doubt these poor toilers often do, and feeling, too, that there must be a wrong somewhere ; see them still plodding inces- santly on, striving to do the best in their power for those dependent on them, and then tell me, sir, what you know about pJucL To me the most sublime and striking monuments of courage upon the face of the globe are men and women like these. Your Alex- anders, Cnesars, Napoleons, and Grants sink into insignificance wdien compared with them. CHEATING. 229 Under our system of property and competition the custom lias grown up of grading our vices ; thus, lying and stealing are considered the thing for the outcasts, while the more refined qualities of vice, such as duplicity, deceit, cheating, and indirect appropriation, are for the more respectable, the kid- gloved members of society. To demand and receive double the value of an article is not regarded as dis- honorable, but, on the contrary, is thought to be rather a smart operation in the seller ; and, to ac- complish this, duplicity and deceit are privilege's sanctioned by public opinion. So prevalent and uni- versal has this respectable habit of cheating become, that if you will show me a son who will not cheat his own father (in a horse trade, at all events), I will .':how you a prodigy. And he is likely to be the worse duped of all who pins his faith upon the honor of an individual from the fact of his having subscribed to some creed or form of religious belief. Highly sanc- timonious venders feel that they have been very honorable and performed their whole duty if they have told no lies in their endeavor to disjDOse of their property. They do not feel that they are in any wise called upon to state the defects of what they may have for sale. This is a matter which the buyer is left to find out, if he can ; but rest assured he does not often get any help in that direction from the party wishing to dispose of the defective article. So if the seller can obtain twice the value of the article by omitting to state its defects, he puts the extortion in his pocket. He is at ease with himself, and probably chuckles iuAvardly over his success ; feelinii the assurance that the course he has taken 230 BANKRUPTCY. WHS the same that probably wouhl have been pur- sued by the buyer of the article himself, or most of his fellow-beiugs, for that matter, under similar cir- cumstances. He knows, further, that his course, execrable as it is, is in full harmony with the spirit and practice of the age. Monstrous beyond measure is the seemingly cur- rent public of)inion upon matters of this character. A man steals a dollar, and he is imprisoned and dis- graced ; he robs others of hundreds of thousands or millions by his duplicity, falsehood, cheating and swindling, and he is called "clever," fills some of the highest offices in government, occupies the choicest pew in church, lives in luxary and splendor, caressed and honored by society ; in short, he is the big mogul around whom the obsequious minions of a false civilization truckle and fawn. Then, again, there is Bankruptc}', which, under our existing property and credit systems, is a constant hid for crime. It is well known that the road to wealth lies through the indirect appropriation of what others have produced ; hence the more ambitious are not likely to drudge on in the slow and servile employ- ments of manual labor, to be shorn of their earnings through the machinations of others, but prefer being shearers rather than the shorn. These, therefore, resort to the channels of trade, of manufacture, and to other pursuits whereby they hope to attain tlieir object. Many of them, no doubt, first make what they regard as an honest effort to obtain success, but, driven to the wall, they resort at last to the bank- ruptcy swindle, while others again, and many, too, embark in such adventures with little hope or desire A RETROSPECT. 231 of success in a legitimate way, knowing that they can secure a competency quicker and easier through the bankruptcy strategy. Then the unfortunate part of this matter is that no laws which ever have been, or ever can be devised, have been or Avill be adequate f(5r protecting the honest bankrupt without affording opportunity for these bankrupt swindlers. The spoliation of this sort carried out under our late Bankrupt act was truly outrageous. The facili- ties for evading the payment of just debts, as well as any criminal responsibility for the spiriting away and concealing of property, were so perfect under this act, and the dividends so meager when passing through the usual course, that manufacturers and merchants finally adopted, as a rule, the policy of taking whatever the bankrupt might offer, giving a receipt in full and asking few questions. Look now, reader, over the list of evils (a few of the more important only of which I have given sj^ace for in this chapter) which arise spontaneously out of our individual property system, with its free and unchecked competition, and you will behold an arra}" of vice and crime sufficient to make the angels weep, if such beings there are. And the attempt to eradi- cate these evils under the system which has generated them, would prove as futile as the attempt to pump the ocean dry. Some of them might to a certain ex- tent be mitigated, but this would be merelj' the patching up of a rotten old structure that, if it ever had a day of usefulness, has long since passed it. I confess that I have little patience with an age, pos- sessing the intelligence and experience of the present, that is content to sit with folded arms and gaze 232 AN EXTRACT FROM LOUIS BLANC. serenely upon a commerciHl system that generates and sanctions such evils as have been pointed out in this chapter. There is but one remedy that I can discover for these evils, and that is to substitute for competition a system that does not naturall}' propagate such follies inequalities, waste, and wrongs ; in other words, a system in which the interest of one shall be the interest of all ; an intelligent sj'stem of collective interests controlled and operated by the people at large. I append to this chapter the quotations from Louis Blanc, made by John Stuart Mill in his notable Cliapters upon Socialism in the February number of the "Fortniglitly Review" for 1879 (since repub- lished in book form under the title of " Socialism and Utilitarianism," pp. 37-45), and which drew from him the remark that " it is impossible to deny that they make out a frightful case either against the existing order of society, or against the position of man himself in the world :" Competition is for the people a system of extermination. Is the poor man a member of society, or an enemy to it? We ask for an answer. All around him he iinds the soil preoccupied Can he cultivate tlie earth for himself? No; for the right of the first occupant has become a right of property. Can lie gather the fruits which tlic liand of (Jod ripens on the patli of man? No; for, like the soil, the fruits liave been appropri- ated. Can he hunt or fish? No; for that is a rigiit which is dependent upon the government. Can he draw water from a spring inclosed m a Held? No; for the proprietor of the field is, in virtue of his riglit to the field, proprietor of the fonntixin. Can he, dying of hunger and thirst, stretch out his hand for the charity of his fellow-creatures? No; for there are laws against begging. Can he, exhausted by fatigue and with- out a refuge, lie down to sleep upon the pavement of the streets? No; for there are laws against vagabondage. Can he, flying from the cruel f WORK AT AUCTION. 233 native land where evcrj'tliing is denied him, seek tiie means of living far from the place where life was given him ? No ; for it is not per- mitted to change j'our country except on certain conditions whicli the poor man cannot fullil. What, then, can the unliuppy man do? He will say, "I have hands to work with, I have intelligence, I have youth, I have strength; take all this, and in return give me a morsel of bread." This is what the workingmeu do say. But even here the poor man may be answered, " 1 have no work to give you." What is he to do then? * * * * * » What is competition from the point of view of the workman? It is work put up to auction. A contractor wants a workman: three present themselves. How much for your work? — Hal f -a- crown : I have a wife and children. — Well; and how much for yours? — Two shillings: I have no children, but I have a wife. — Very well; and now how much for you? — One and eightpence are enough for me: I am single. Then you shall have tiie work. It is done; the bargain is struck. And what are the otiier two workmen to do ? It ia to be hoped they will die quietly of hunf^cr. But what if they take to thieving? Never fear; we have the police. To murder? We have got the hangman. As for the lucky one, his triumph is only temporary. Let a fourth workman make his appearance, strong enovigh to fast every other day, and his price will run down still lower; then there will bo a new outcast — a new recruit for the prison, perhaps. Will it be said that these melancholy results are exaggerated; that at all events they are only possible when there is not work enough for the hands that seek employment? Eut I ask, in answer. Does the prin- ciple of competition contain, by chance, within itself any method by which this murderous disproportion is to be avoided? If one brancli of Industry is in want of hands, wlio can answer for it tiiat, in the con- fusion created by universal competition, another is not overstocked? And if, out of thirty-four millions of men, twenty are really reduced to theft for a living, this would suffice to condemn the principle. But who is so blind as not to see tiiat under the system of unlimited competition, the continual fall of wages is no exceptional circlimstance, but a necessary and general fact? Has the population a limit which it cannot exceed? Is it possible for us to say to industry — industry given up to the accidents of individual egotism and fertile in ruin— can we say, "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther?" The population increases constantly: tell the poor mother to become sterile, and blaspheme the God who made her fruitful, for if you do not the lists will soon become 234 A DESPERATE CHOICE. too narrow for the combatants. A machine is invented: command it to be broken, and anathematize science, for if j'ou do not, the thousand workmen whom the new machine deprives of work will knock at the door of the neighboring workshop, and lower the wages of their com- panions. Thus systematic lowering of wages, ending in the driving out of a certain number of workmen, is the inevitable effect of unlimited competition. It is an industrial system by means of which the working classes are forced to exterminate one another. ****** If there is an undoubted fact, it is that the increase of population is much more rapid among the poor than among the rich. According to the ■' Statistics of European Papulation,"' the births at Paris are only one-thirty-sccond of the population in the rich quarters, while in the others they rise to one-twenty-sixth. Tliis disproportion is a general fact, and M. de Sismondi, in his work on Political Econom}', has ex- plained it by the impossibility for the workman of liopeful prudence. Those only who feel themselves assured of the morrow can regulate the number of their children according to their income; he who lives from day to day is under the yoke of a mysterious "fatalitj', to winch he sacrifices his children as he was sacrificed to it himself. It is true the workhouses exist, menacing society with an inundation of beggars —what way is there of escaping from the cause? . . It is clear that any society where the means of subsistence increase less rapidly than the numbers of the population is a society on the brink of an abyss Competition produces destitution; this is a fact shown by statistics. Lestitution is fearfully prolific; this is shown bj'^ sttitistics. The fruitfulness of the poor throws upon society un- happy creatures who have need of work and cannot find it; this is shown by statistics. At this point society is reduced to a choice between killing the poor or maintaining them gratuitously — between atrocity and foil}'. So mucli (continues Mr. Mill) for the poor. We now pass to the middle classes. According to the political economists of the school of Adam Smith and Leon Say, cheapness is the word in which may be summed up the advanttiges of unlimited competition. But why persist in considering the effect of cheapness with a view only to the momentary advantage of the consumer? Cheapness is advantageous to the consumer at the COMPETITION AND THE MIDDLE CLASS. 235 cost of introducing the seeds of ruinous anarchy among the producers. Cheapness is, so to speak, the hammer with which the rich among the producers crush their poorer rivals. Cheapness is the trap into which the daring specuhitors entice the hard-workers. Cheapness is tlie sen- tence of death to the producer on a small scale Avho has no money to invest in the purchase of machinery that his rich rivals can easily' pro- cure. Cheapness is the great instrument in the hands of monopoly; it absorbs the small manufacturer, the small shopkeeper, the small pro- prietor; it is, in one word, the destruction of the middle classes for the advantage of a few industrial oligarchs. Ought we, then, to consider cheapness as a curse? No one would attempt to maintain such an absurdity. But it is the specialty of wrong principles to turn good into evil and to corrupt all things. Under the system of competition cheapness is only a provisional and fallacious advantage. It is mamtained only so long as there is a struggle; no sooner have the rich competitors driven out their j)oorer rivals than prices rise. Competition leads to monopol}-: for the same reason cheap- ness leads to high prices. Thus, what has been made use of as a weapon in the contest between the producers sooner or later becomes a cause of impoverishment among the consumers. And if to this cause we add the others we have already enumerated, first among which must be ranked the inordinate increase of the population, we shall be compelled to recognize the impoverishment of the mass of the consumers as a direct consequence of competition. But, on the other hand, this very competition which tends to dry up the sources of demand urges production to over-supply. The confusion produced by the universal struggle prevents each producer from know- ing the stiite of the market. He must work in the dark and trust to chance for a sale. Why should he check the supply, especially as lie can throw any loss on the workman whose wages are so pre-eminently liable to rise and fall? Even when production is carried on at a loss the manufacturers still often carry it on, because they will not let their machinery, etc., stand idle, or risk the loss of raw material, or lose their customers; and because productive industrj'' as carried on under the competitive system being nothing else than a game of chance, the gam- bler will not lose his chance of a lucky stroke. Thus, and we cannot too often insist upon it, competition necessarily tends to increase supply and to diminish consumption; its tendency therefore is precisely the opposite of what is sought by economic science; hence it is not merely oppressive but foolish as vveU. 23G A TOO FAITHFUL PICTURE. And iu all tliis, in order to avoid dwelling on truths Avliicli Lave be- come comriionplaces and sound declamator}' from their very truth, we have said nothing of the frightful moral corruption which industry, or- ganized, or, more properly speaking, disorganized, as it is at the present day, has introduced among the middle classes. Everything has become venal, and competition invades even the domain of thought. The factory crushing the workshop; the showy establishment ab- sorbing the humble shop; the artisan who is his own master replaced by the day-laborer; cultivation by tlie plow superseding that by the spade, and bringing the poor man's field under disgraceful homage to the money-lender; bankruptcies multiplied; manufacturing industry transformed by the ill-regulated extension of credit into a system of gambling where no one, not even the rogue, can be sure of winning; in short, a vast confusion calculated to arouse jealousy, mistrust, and hatred, and to stifle, little by little, all general aspirations, all faith, self- sacrifice, and poetry — such is the hideous but only too faithful picture of the results obtained by the apphcutiou of the principle of competition. CHAPTER IX. EDUCATION, From what has already been said in this work, tlie reader has no doubt been able to form a quite cor- rect estimate of the importance attached to thorough and universal education in the New Republic. In the attention paid to the construction of the school buildings, in the ample grounds allotted to them, and in the complete manner in which they were fitted up — with extensive play-grounds, shady groves, and every attraction conceivable for the convenience, comfort, and pleasure of the occupants — a hint of this has already been given. In truth, long in ad- vance of the time of whicli I speak the conviction had become universal that the power and privilege to acquire and utilize Imoicledge were the most pre- cious boon that had been bestowed upon man. Re- gardless, therefore, of the warnings of any so-called inspired prophets, priests, or books, man had placed himself among the branches of " the tree of knowl- edge," and, refusing to be removed, had applied himself assiduously' to plucking from it that fruit which his nature so ardently craved, and which he found, as he did cat thereof, to be. his chief l)lessing rather than his curse. By comparing himself witli the other animals, man had become convinced that 238 HUMAN DEVELOrMENT. iu bis unenlightened state lie was but a degree their superior. It was knowledge a shade in advance that first gave him control over these ; it Avas the increase of knowledge that marked the contrast still wider, giving him as he mounted, step by step, not only more extended power and dominion over the ani- mal kingdom, but over the elements of nature a con- trol that astonished even himself. This notable point in his career having been reached, man began to look back and calmly survey the rugged track he had traveled. He saw the jntfalls into which he had stumbled, the precipices over which he had fallen, and noted them with a view to guarding iu future against such obstructions as might beset his pathway. Experience had further taught him that which was of inestimable value — namely, self-reliance. It had for some time been a question with him whether his destiny depended upon himself, or whether some sprite or hobgoblin, pictured to his imagination, might not have the power to lead him, in spite of himself, he knew not whither. He finally learned that his fate, in this world at least, depended mainly upon himself. He foiind that while there Avere no ghosts, hobgoblins, good or evil spirits, that could exert any power over him, yet all nature, him- self included, was governed by fixed and immutable laws. He discovered, further, that these laws could not be transgressed with impunity, and that it was his province to investigate and strive to gain a knowl- edge of them that he might live in harmony with them. Then for the first time did man find himself occupying a position auspicious for improving his condition and making life upon our earth worth SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY. 239 living. This happy change took place when Science had fully supplanted Theology ; when what was tauglit as truth was verified knowledge, not nnrea- sonable speculation unsubstantiated by any credible testimony. Scientists may and do speculate ; but they are honest enough to acknowledge tlieir thiiories hypothetical until demonstrated. Theologians, on the contrary, invent their theories, their religions, by the score, and claim that each of them has been transmitted direct from the great author of all that is, though about all the similarity discoverable between their many alleged " God-given truths " is that they are all claimed to be substantiated by miracles, all share about equally in inconsistencies, incongruities, and downright contradictions, and all are about equally absurd. We have not yet passed the theologic age, but the death-knell of Theology has sounded, and the day is not far distant when she will be laid away by the side of her sister, Mythology, another cast-off relic of ignorance and superstition. For the welfare of the race, the sooner this day comes the better, as we may then begin to build in earnest upon a solid foundation. To study the elements, to dip deep into the mys- teries of the universe, that he may obtain knowledge of inestimable value to him, is not only man's privi- lege, but it is necessary to his progression. Nothing more noble can possibly occupy the attention of man than a patient, laborious, unflinching research into the origin and laws of those wonderful phe- nomena that surround him ; and it is now too late in the order of time t(i claim that any knowledge worth 240 THE FIKST OBJECT OF EDUCATION. Laving has been, or ever can be, obtained except through this kind of human eflfort. Long prior to the age of which I now speak, this had become fully settled in the minds of the people, and only that was now taught as fact which had been verified as such, and might readily be again ; while what was taught as probable had very good reasons given for it, and what was unknown was simply so stated. Although not as wise in their own conceits as were they of the semi-barbarous theological ages that had gone before, the people were grounded now upon a basis from which there was no retrogression, and every step was a step in advance. The prime object in the education of the young in the New Kepublic was to develop the faculties and impart such information as would be most useful in the life before them. The child began to be taught almost as it began to breathe — not by any indiscreet assumption of authority, but by the exercise of that tact which a mother's love so naturally prompts. The discipline which was to be of so much service in after- life began here. At a suitable age every child found its way to the schools, not to be set bolt-upright upon a hard bench, and to have its ears cuffed if it did not conform strictly to some ironclad system' of ideal propriety, but to meet a tender and affectionate female instructor Avliose first care w\as to make it contented and happy. By a tact similar to that Avith which the mother had laid the first ground-work of instruction, the child was now led on to be interested in making further jjrogress. There were no rude exhibitions of authority to prejudice, discourage, and provoke the spirit of the child, but in perfect kind- THE ART or EXPRESSION. 241 ness, as it had been commenced by the mother, everything went on at the schools. The disposi- tion of the chihl was studied, and its capacity also, in order that it might not be overtasked. The system of the schools and the curriculum of studies had changed much from those of our day, and these changes I will now proceed to state. It was an es- tablished principle of the New Eepublic that every child, whether male or female, white, black, or cop- per colored — not specially incapacitated by either mental or bodily infirmities — was not only entitled to the privilege of passing through a general course of study, but, for the mutual benefit of each and all, such an education was deemed indispensable, and must be provided. The schools, therefore, were systematized in accord- ance with this fixed custom. At the head of the cur- riculum of studies, of course, was placed Language, or a knowledge of the proper use of the "mother tongue." The power to construct and make use of a language, both to suggest and to express and interchange thought, was held as among the highest gifts to man, if not flie highest. Realizing the inestimable bene- fit which the gift of language had conferred upon man, the thought had long before arisen of the further advantage that might be derived from the construction of a Universal Language which should be spoken and written all over the Avorld ; and so, long anterior to the time of which I now speak, such a language had been constructed out of the many before in vogue, and was now in universal use. The construction and adoption of a universal lan- guage has not received, among the thoughtful of the 242 BENEFITS OF A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE. present age, the attention which its importance de- mands. It can readily be seen that in innumerable Avaj's such a language would be of incalculable benefit to mankind. Of course I can mention liere only a few of the most important of these diverse benefits. Through it, let us say, a knowledge of the arts and sci- ences could be extended over the entire planet ; the best thoughts of the world's thinkers could be dissem- inated among the difi^erent nations and races of men, which cannot be the case while so many translations and republications are required ; through such a lan- guage there would be an interchange of thought, both written and oral, which would push on the march of civilization, and conduce to the good of the race to a degree unparalleled by any influence as yet brought to bear in the Avorld's historj'. Its effect, it cannot be doubted, would be to interest mankind at large in the welfare of each other ; while now this interest, except among people living under the same gov- ernment, or nations bound in some degree by com- mercial relations, is about as deficient and spiritless as that of the wild animals that inhabit the forests. What interest has America or Christian Europe now in the Turks or Chinese ? Little more than to despoil and drive to the wilderness or desert, on account cf their religion, the former, and to make the most pos- sible in their commercial transactions with the latter. And how many similar illustrations might be made showing how meager is the interest which the people in the different parts of the globe take in one another ! It is this selfish feeling of indifference to the welfare of each other that is, and always has been, paramount to all other causes in instigating: the horrid wars that THE TEOPER USES OF SPEECH.' 243 SO often occur between nations ; and the influence wliicli a universal language would have toward re- moving this indifference cannot be overestimated. Rulers and priests whose selfish interests are main- tained by keeping the people in ignorance Avould of cfuirse object to an}' such innovation ; but the lover of liis race, he whose ardent desire it is to see the Avliole family of man upon the planet knit together in one universal brotherhood, Avould hail with joy the advent of a universal language, promising so much as it does for breaking down the partition-walls that divide nations and races. A little reflection will suggest to the reader many other important advantages to be derived from this same source, but as the plan of this work does not permit more than a glance at the various subjects treated; and as I have said sufficient, I hope, to set the reader thinking about the matter, I must now leave him to extend the investigation according as it may interest him. In framing the language which I found spoken in the New Republic, much pains had been taken to make it adequate to the j^iirposes for which language was invented. The framers had kept steadily in view the fact that the use of language was Avholly for the expression and interchange of thought ; and, for ex- pression, tlie more simple the better. To this end the more appropriate and ex]^ressive words were selected from tlie various different languages then iu vogue, and so changed as to adapt them to their new use, while new words were coined wherever it seemed evident that an im])rovement could thus be made. Words bearing a double meaning had not been re- 244 ■ WHEKE TEACHING BEGAN. tainetl. Ortliograpli}' indicated the pronunciation in tlie simplest manner possible. To gain a thorough mastery over the use of this new language in speak- ing, reading, writing, and spelling was noAv proper!}^ considered the first requisite to a good education. As the child began to combine words into sentences he was taught to use the proper words and to arrange them C(n-rectl3-, and this prompting was continued until he became quite correct and expert in his utterance. In reading, also, the same watchfulness was ob- served and drill maintained. The pupil was taught to observe not only the rules of pronunciation, empha- sis, expression, and such other directions as might tend to perfect him in the art, but, also— a consider- ation of the utmost importance — to endeavor at all times to catch the sense of what he was reading. To allow the child to fall into an inattentive or slothful habit of reading was regarded as extremely detrimental ; great exertion was put forth, therefore, to impress the child with the importance of being interested in what he read, and he was cautioned not to continue reading for a moment beyond a time when the energies should flag sufficiently to destroy his interest in the subject. To read aloud well, they said, the reader must be enabled to catch the meaning of the author at a glance, and, to facilitate this, text- books were so prepared as to command the attention of the pupil. That the reader might be enabled to more fully comprehend the author, the practice was made incumbent u]ion the young, in silent reading, to have a dictionary lying by their side for reference in case of meetinf]f .with unfamiliar words. DEFECTS OF TIIESENT EDUCATIONAL SYSTEMS. 245 Tlie iuefficiency displayed in teaching the pu])il to read in our schools to-day is truly astonishing ; and this iuefficiency is still greater, I think, as a rule, in our private than in our public schools. Of the pupils that graduate from these private schools, not one in ten — perhaps I might say not one in fifty— can acquit himself in a creditable manner in this foremost of ac- complishments ; and the public school pupils are but a shade in advance. The truth is, the number of good readers in our country to-day is but a small fraction of what it was fiftv years ago. And why is this? The answer is readily given : It is because but a decade is given for cramming into the head more than the average pupil can acquire thoroughly in double that time. The folly of the age then says, " Give them a smat- tering of the accomplishments, the ornamental part" — and let that go which is really most important. Kot that the essential part of all the studies now pursued may not be beneficial to the pupil, but the trouble lies in the cramming of our text-books with such a prodigious amount of non-essential matter. How few there are at the present time, either of parents or teachers, who impress ui:>on the minds of the young the importance of referring to their dic- tionaries, in silent reading, for the definition of such words as they do not understand ! They will give them a smattering of half a dozen languages, quite likely, and then let them pass from the school-room into active life with a very inadequate knowledge of their mother tongre. The result of all this is that the adult must accpiire, during time snatched from other pursuits, and perha^is from midnight hours, Avhat 246 COMPOSITION AND STYLE. under proper instructions lie would Lave learned in youth, or lie must suffer the penalty of passing through life without a sufficient knowledge of any language whatever, incapable of comprehending fnlly what he may read, and powerless to express his thoughts in a clear, not to say elegant, manner. In the New Republic, as the pupil advanced some- what in his reading, he was taught to compose, to construct and place upon paper in his own language, the substance of his reading or whatever he might desire to relate concerning anything he had seen or heard. This branch of instruction was continued throughout the full schclastic term. To perfect their style, ]nipils were farther required to peruse the works of the best ai.thors, and to study thor- ouglih' the definitions aiid synonyms of words. Is it not surprising how little significance is placed upon this important branch of the youth's educaticn at the present day in the great majority of our public schools? In exceptional instances teachers have risen to the importance of this question, and lessons in composition are regularly given, but in most of our public schools tbe pi^pil is taught the alphabet, to spell and read in a most inefficient manner, and then left to make such progress as he may in the use of the language, with little or no further instruction. This is much like placing in the hands of a youth, with which to learn a trade, a great number of tools, one-half or more of which he has never seen in use, or seen at all, in fact, and expecting him, Avithout instruction, but through his own ingenuity, to become a skilful mechanic. Such a feat, perhaps, would not be impossible, but under these circumstances, ADVANTAGES OF PRACTICE. 247 except in a few special cases, he would be likely to reach a ripe old age before becoming very proficient as an artisan. Parents do not expect their children to pursue the art of music, drawing, or painting, without instruction, and yet this far more useful art, the art of using our mother tongue skilfully and elegantly, the common opinion seems to be, is either of minor importance or else may be sufficiently acquired without further instruction than that af- forded by the driest rules of a grammar. But how few there are, liowever well versed the}^ may be in the grammar of a language, who cau write correctly a simple letter to a friend — much less punctuate it properly ! And yet this is a qualification which every common school pupil should acquire, and which all would acquire under proper instruction and practice- The advantage to be derived from practice in this art may be seen in the skill which compositors ac- quire in detecting errors or badly constructed sen- tences. Many an editor's proof-reader has saved his emjiloyer's reputation for writing fairly readable English by correcting his manuscript, and this, not seldom, but constantly. The " finished oration " of many a speaker, likewise, Avouhl not read very smoothly were it not for the polish given it by som3 penny-a-line reporter. Some of the most interesting and instructive books that ever went into the hands of a publisher — books that show an originality and an ability for grasping the full breadth of their subject, books that stamp their authors as writers of genius— would be but sorry reading were it not for the corrections and embellishments of some compe- tent critic and the careful supervision of tlie proof- 248 ' HOW BAD HABITS ABE FOBMED. reader. And yet neither compositors, reporters, nor proof-readers are such, usually, as have acquired what is termed a liberal education before commenc- ing upon their vocations. The skill Avith which they detect, and the readiness with which they rearrange, improperly constructed sentences come from experi- ence — from practice. This demonstrates conclusively the necessity of practice for acquiring skill in the use of language both in speaking and writing; and the time for this is in youth, when speech is first brought into use, for habits then formed are formed for life unless OA'ercome by the most persistent effort. Few parents or teachers seem to comprehend the impor- tance of this matter, or furnish the child Avith that instruction so indispensable for starting him on the right track. He is allowed to express his thoughts in the most incorrect and bungling manner, and to speak improperl}^ without correction. In writing and composing, Avhich are rarely attempted, except it may be in now and then a letter to a friend, he re- ceives no instruction, nor is his production examined, inappropriate words and badly constructed sentences pointed out, and corrections made, as should be done before the missive is allowed to go. If these precau- tions are not taken, and the child has had no training in composition, he has no way of finding out Avhether he has written correctly or not, and so he goes on, violating every rule of correct writing, until he has formed a slovenly habit which is not likely to be over- come. How many a gem of thought has been bottled up, hermetically sealed in the mind, from a lack of this power of expression ! Many of the most profound thinkers never give full expression to their thoughts ; A SADLY NEGLECTED STUDY. 249 and it is only on rare occasions, wlien some epi^^ram- matic sentence chances to fall from their lips, that we have revealed to us the hidden stores within. Not infrequently the cause of this silence, if brought to light, would he found to be a lack of power to clothe their thoughts in language satisfactory to themselves. Few things cause a sharper l)aug to the human mind than the conviction of possessing some hidden truth which, if once expressed, would be of great value to the world ; but, the jDossessor being without the power of presenting that truth in a manner ac- ceptable to himself, it remains unexpressed. Yet there are few, if an}-, human beings of ordinary in- telligence who might not by proj^er instruction and discipline, at an early age become capable of ex- pressing their thoughts both in speaking and writing in a correct, . orderly, and pleasing manner. The reasons, no doubt, why so little attention is paid to this art of expression are, first, that it is regarded as important only for those following some literary or scientific j^ursuit ; and, second, the idea prevails that it can be acquired by those only who have received what is termed a liberal education. Yet no man can open his mouth to speak or take uj) the pen to write but the value of this qualification is made manifest, and the more unconscious of this he is himself the more ajiparent it is to others. And as to its being an art which cannot be efficiently attained without first passing through a collegiate course or accpiiring what is termed a liberal education, the skill which is attained by the compositor, before alluded to, as well as that of many an author who has re- ceived naught beyond a common school educaticMi, is 250 UNIVERSITIES EQUALLY AT FAULT. sufficient disproof. Neither compositor nor author, however, was ever made proficient in this art with- out constant and proloni^ed practice, and such prac- tice is just what it sliouhl be every youth's privilege to obtain in our public schools. The truth is that we attach too much importance to a knowledge of the rules of grammar for assisting the pupil in the construction and proper use of lan- guage. A little practice in the construction of sen- tences, under a good tutor, is of far more value to the pupil than all the set rules of grammar that you can stuflf into his head. But what is required is, not a little, but a continual training under a gootl teacher until the pupil can construct and arrange words in sentences correctly and with dispatch. Along with this, the grammar may, of course, be used to advan- tage. The writer confesses that he has himself suf- fered so much from the lack of such discipline as he is here speaking of, in his early ediication, that he feels it hardly possible to impress too strongly upon the minds of those to whom is entrusted the education of the young the importance of this branch of instruction. But while our common schools fail disgracefully in teaching the art of expression, in our universities an importance seems to be attached to it that is equally objectionable. Here, so much of the student's time is spent in thumbing the classics (the object being, largely, it is claimed, to perfect and polish in the art of writing and speaking pro])erly), that he has little time left for acquiring general knowledge. The result is that he often comes from his collegiate course with a set of shallow ideas, that he spends the TEXT-BOOKS IN THE NEW EErUBLIC, 251 balance of Lis days in dressing up in grandiloquent language, whicli lie imagines to be "killing" — and lie is quite right, for it is a killing of time for bim who reads. From what has now been said, it will be seen that a very thorough knowledge of the one grand universal language, and the art of correct and fluent expression, were the flrst great advantages to be ob- tained by the pupil in the common schools of the New Eepublic. But, in the pursuit of other studies, the mode of procedure in the common schools of the New Repub- lic was quite different from that adopted in the study of the language ; the paramount object in the pros- ecution of other studies being to place the pupil in a position for obtaining the greatest amount of general information possible to be attained during liis scho- lastic term, and at the same time to give him the key to all knowledge. To this end, text-books were pre- pared, not only for such studies as are now taught in our public schools, but embracing all the more use- ful scientific studies, a knowledge of which had now come to be regarded as indispensable. But in order not to overtax the pupils in the pursuance of this more extended range of studies, their text-books were so prepared as to comprise only that information which was regarded as the most useful in the ordi- nary walks of life, leaving a more elaborate and com- prehensive education to be acquired in the higher institutes or through private individual effort. One of the worst present-day outrages is the at- tempt made in some of our public and nearly all our private schools to cram the full contents of our voluminous text-books into the heads of our youth. 252 EVILS OF DILUTED TEXT-BOOKS. The victims of this outrageous custom, with their bent aud emaciated bodies, haggard faces, shattered uervous systems, and disease exhibited in a liundred forms, ma}^ be met on every hand, while thousands more cry out to us from untimely graves. Moreover, to such an extent has this amplification been carried that few pupils have the power to retain more than a modicum of what they have committed to memory. Given a six- months' vacation, and three-fourths of that which the}' have once learned, with sufficient success to be able to recite creditabh', will be an almost total blank to the majority of pupils. You may say that this is for the reason that their lessons are not thoroughly learned. True ; but I contend that it is be^'ond the capacity of the average pupil, during his usual short scholastic term, to master and retain in the memory anything but a minimum of what is contained in the common school text-books as they are now prepared. It would, in fact, in most in- stances, require a lifetime. The result of this system is to so cumber the memory that it not only loses most of this superfluous matter, but also much that is emi- nently useful and which Avould probably bo retained were it alone taught. To the extent, therefore, to which the text-books of any study are thus diluted, or to which what is really useful is drawn out into tedious detail, to that extent its value to the pupil is impaired. It may be said that nothing which tends to throw light upon any important question is useless ; and this holds true, no doubt, in the case of the specialist, whose object is, or should be, to thoroughly master his subject. But it must be remembered that I am A rilACTICAL SUGGESTION. 253 here speaking only of tluit general information to disseminate which I regard as the true object of the common school, and through which a complete mas- tery of any particular study cannot reasonably be expected. Another reason Avliy the pupil retains but a modi- cum of what is taught through voluminous text-books is that he finds in after-life no practical use for it. Many there are of us who once waded through these books, but how many had not within five years, or ten at the farthest, lost the greater portion of what we spent so much time to acquire ? We have found no practical use in our vocations for what we studied, and it has passed from our minds. In truth, a man must needs be a jack-at-all-trades who could find use for all the information which in diluted form it is attempted to cram into the head of the average com- mon school pupil at the present day. Why not, let me ask, prepare for our common schools such text-books as I found in the New Re- public, embracing the elementary principles of the more useful sciences — all ascertained knowledge, in fact, likely to be found beneficial in the ordinary walks of life ? Let them be prepared with compre- hensiveness and brevity, and a general knowledge of all that is most useful, as well as of many subjects which are now almost like sealed books to them, may be acquired by our youth, during their scholastic term, without injury to either body or mind. More elaborate treatises should of course be prepared fm' the higher branches to be pursued by the specialist, or by him, who, like Bacon, has an ambition to acquire all knowLnlge, but who might now live to a ripe old 254 PHYSIOLOGY AND HYGIENE. age, keeping Lis brain actively employed, and tlieu die without accomplishing his design. There is one study of which a text-book should by all means bo prepared for our common schools. I mention it particularly here for the reason that at present little attention is paid to it. I refer to Physi- ology and H3'giene. To know one's self physically ; to possess a knowledge of the wonderfully wrought human structure ; to know the laws that govern our existence, and by obeying them to foster and strengthen all the bodily functions ; and so to secure to ourselves that health and vigor which impart to life its principal zest, may be rightfully regarded as one of the chief requisites of a pojjular educa- tion. A text-book prepared for this study in our common schools should be an exceedingly brief but general compendium, written in the most simple language, so far as possible without teclmical words or terms ; simply sufficient to impart a general knowledge of the structure of the human form and the laws which govern and guard its healthful maintenance. In such a text-book let no false sense of modesty taboo a branch of the subject Avhich is most important, since ignorance of it is so often attended with results the most deplorable. Are sexnal relations so disgust- ing and evil in their nature that mankind shall be ashamed to treat of them? If so, then they should be asliamcd to indulge in them also, and the sooner w*e all become Shakers the better. But, you say, granted there is no wrong in the matter, a natural sense of modesty and propriety forbids its being cried aloud. We grant you this, grant that it is a MUCH-NEEDED INSTRUCTION. 255 subject that may not always be referred to with pro- priety, but Ave claim that it is a pernicious and con- temptible false modesty that has so long allowed and still persists in allowing our youth to be reared in ignorance of that which is of such vital importance to the health and well-being of each and every one of them. Intemperance in eating and drinking have long commanded general attention, particularly the latter, while the evils arising from sexual intemper- ance (equal, no doubt, to either of the others) as the result of this false modest}^ in keeping our youth in ignorance, are allowed to go destructively on, un- checked and unhindered. We ponder over the evils of self-abuse so prevalent among the young, and the equally destructive vice of sexual intemperance in marital life and in illicit in- tercourse, and yet so cowardly are we that we dare not breal: through the bonds of this false sense of propriety, utter our protest, and raise a cry of warn- ing that shall reach the ears, or meet the eye, of those who are, or who may become, th3 victims of these life-destroying abuses. Possibly when the seeds of these evils have been so widely sown that their results cannot be eradicated, a physician may in- timate in the most gingerly manner the cause of our broken-down constitutions, and then it is that the victim will fully appreciate the wrong to which he has been subjected through that false sentiment of society that has been the cause of withholding from him a knowledge that should have been im- parted to him in his youth. Every physician, and nearly every parent who has passed the meridian of life, knows that nothing within the whole range of 25G THE HISTORY OF MAN. pliysiology and In-giene is of more importancre to the youth thau a knowledge of sexual matters, and yet so tenaciously has this false sense of propriety fas- tened itself upon society that there are none who dare instruct. And since parents have rarely the courage to bring up this subject before their chil- dren, if it is also to be excluded from our text-bcxjks on physiology and hygiene, tell me, in the name of heaven, how are our youth to gain a knoAvledge which would be of such priceless value to them? We know that now they do not obtain this knowledge except through a most bitter experience, nor until in their systems have been sown seeds of disease that can never be eradicated. In some way, most assuredly, this knowledge should be taught the young; and if there is nothing in reproduction, common to all nature, of which mankind need bo ashamed, then I for one can see no impropriety in its being taught both by parents and in our schools. Not, of course, to the two sexes in each other's presence, as there might certainly be an impropriety in this, it being entirely needless. Another study which I found commonly taught in the New Republic was the Histor}- of Man, which was indeed one of the most, if not ihe most, instructive and valuable works ever put into the hands of a pupil. Commencing in the prehistoric age, it ran carefully through the several geologic periods, re- cording briefly such information as had been gathered from the footprints of man upon the eartli during the infancy of the race; and continuing his progress from where history began, it singled out from the vast storehouse that gradually swelled itself into more FIRST LESSONS IN SCIENCE. 257 magnificent proportions the gist of what had trans- pired among all nations and all races of men having a tendency to either retard or advance man's progress. Such a repository of information, brought within the compass of a text-book for the schools, had required the research and skill of man}^ a masterly hand to perfect, but patience and perseverance had at length succeeded in gathering together in this not very voluminous treatise more valuable information than had ever before been compressed into a single vol- ume. The sickening, horrid details of wars, the fol- lies and vain exploits of monarch s, chieftains, and would-be heroes of all sorts, Avith all else that served to detract from the strict purpose of the work, had, of course, been excluded. Besides those alread}^ alluded to, they had also in the common schools of the New Republic text-books upon all the more useful sciences, and all prepared upon the same elementary, concise, and comprehen- sive principle. The key to knowledge having been given through language, the privilege Avas now ex- tended to each to avail himself of all that was most important in that vast fund of information gathered through experience and study of the universe. The kernel of that knowledge, gained through the labors of the many scientists and philosophers Avho had gone before, in the several studies to Avhich they had devoted their Ha'CS, was set before their youth in the common schools in a form so simple that the ordi- narj^ intellect could comprehend it ; hence there Avas no longer any excuse for not being Avell informed. It Avas the duty and practice of the instructor to bring the mind of the jjupil, so far as possible, in 258 SCHOOL EEGIMEN. actual contact with the facts to be imparted tlirough illustration, experiment, demonstration, and verifica- tion ; and to this end everj- school building in the land was furnished with a suitable outfit. Teaching had become a profession, and among the highest of professions. The day had gone by when a little knowledge, ensconced in a thimbleful of brains, could "pass muster" in the school-room, and the fact had also become recognized that teachers, as well as poets or artists, must be born such — that they must possess natural qualifications adapted to the pro- fession, which cannot be acquired tlirough any amount of preparation. But while it was held that the teacher must possess a natural gift for his call- ing, it was also claimed that there was a science of teaching, like that of the other professions, Avhich it was necessary that the teacher should understand. At Science Hall, in each of the cities, therefore, those who had chosen the profession of teachers received that practical instruction which was re- garded as necessary to prepare them for their duties. Eight months of the year the common schools were in session — April, July, August, and December being allowed for vacation. They opened at nine in the morning and closed at twelve for the most ad- vanced pupils ; those of a more tender age were de- tained in the school-room for a less time. Lessons were usually learned out of the above hours, but in assigning tasks to the pupils great care was taken not to overtax them. Lessons of equal length were given to those comprising the same classes, but the nnmJier of studies permitted to be simultaneously pursued was regulated by the capacity of the pupil THE PKOVINCE OF THE COMMON SCHOOL. 259 to uccomplisli liis task without overtaxing liis brain- Tlie longth of time constituting a scholastic term, therefore, depended upon the pupil's ability to thor- oughly complete the full course of study. Attached to the school buildings were ample play- grounds, fitted up with every convenience for athletic sports, and here the pupils gathered, in the after- noons, to enjoy their sports, maintaining, thereby, that health and vigor which ample exercise and pleasurable amusements usually afford, and which are so particularly indispensable to the young. Dur- ing the months of vacation pupils of both sexes, of twelve years and upward, were requireel to devote three hours out of each day to industrial occupations, either in the field, the workshop, or the household; the remainder of the time was assigned them for their s2)orts. I have now given the reader quite a general idea, I think, of the system of the common schools in the New Republic. Should it be thought that their cur- riculum of studies was rather extensive, I hardly think it can be maintained that it embraced more than a good popular education requires. It was held that ever}' youth was entitled to such an educa- tion in the common schools as should not only fit him or her to become a useful and intelligent citizen, but that should also afford to him or her the ground- v.'ork for prosecuting intelligently any art, invention, profession, or science that his or her natural bent of mind should seem to indicate a fitness for. Tlie common school was, therefore, regarded as but the stepping-stone to a higher and more complete educa- tion. With such advantages, it need hardly be said 260 PEOrLE SOSIEWHAT COMMUNISTIC. tliat the pupil left the common school in the New Republic, at the close of his scholastic term, Avith a fuud of general information in excess of that pos- sessed by the most learned of our day. There were other and very effectual modes for educating the youth in the New Republic outside the schools, but these ma}^ be spoken of quite as appropriately when we come to take the reader with us for a glance into practical Communistic life, which it is my intention to do in a subsequent chapter. Let us now glance, again, at some of the short- comings of our existing common school system. Among the more important of these, so important that it would hardly do to let it pass without point- ing out here, is the failure to furnish to all the same privileges and facilities for a popular education that are furnished to a portion. It cannot be ques- tioned that the raising of school-funds by taxation is a direct and gross violation of the fundamental prin- ciple upon which the system of private property is based, but happily the people in our republic, as well as in many other civilized communities, are so far Communistic in their views as not to insist upon ex- acting the full extent of what is involved in their property system. It is well, too, that this is so, for otherwise there would be little of what we call so- ciety, and the condition of mankind would be wretched indeed. But to say whether, under the system of private property, the people at large ought to be taxed at all for the maintenance of public schools, and if so, how far, is a nut which is not for me to crack, as the system I advocate gives room for no such question to arise. There is no doubt, however, about the UNJUST DISCRIMINATION. 2G1 injustice of using tliis common fund — raised by gen- eral taxation — for giving some pupils such an educa- tion as will fit them for our higher universities, while others are denied even a seat in the public schools ; but this is precisely what is being done in the me- tropolis of the western continent to-day. . It is estimated that there are at the present mo- ment over ten thousand children of the proj)er school age who cannot be seated in the buildings prepared for our public schools in the city of New York. At the opening of the schools the pupils rush to them in numbers far in excess of the accommodation pro- A'ided, and finding no room in the schools, thousands go away to roam in the streets and grow up in igno- rance. All this, too, while the children of our more privileged class — our Avell to-do citizens who have sufficient means for educating their children at their own expense — are receiving in the upper grades of these public schools instruction of the most liberal and extravagant kind. In some of these schools, the higher scientific studies, and a number of the modern, as well as the dead languages, are taught, for which must be provided competent teach- ers at high salaries, as Avell as all the accompani- ments necessary for illustration and demonstration. In short, the well-to-do or wealthy citizen may here give his children all the advantages of a higher order of education at the expense of the jDublic ; and not a few avail themselves of the privilege. Of course, an infringement upon the rights of private property that levies any tax whatever for the support of the schools opens wide tlie gate for taxing for that purpose to any extent, but justice and common sense must both 262 A TLEA FOR EQUAL BIGHTS, certainly insist that whatever privileges of this nat- ure are granted under state or corporate autlioritj must be alike and equal to all. I, for one, therefore, protest most emphatically against being taxed to furnish one or more of our public schools with the requisites to prepare the children of Mr. Brown for college while the children of Mr. O'Eeilly are not provided even with sitting-room in any school whatever, and the children of many more of our citizens are crowded together like pigs, in badly-arranged and badlj'-ventilated apartments, to be taught little beyond the simplest rudiments of our language. I contend that whatever is provided in our public schools for the children of Mr. Brown should be provided for the children of Mr. O'Reilly ; that ample provisions should be made in our public school baildings for the accommodation of every child in the city ; that these buildings should be erected upon a uniform plan, and with a view to the comfort and health of the occupants ; that they should be furnished equally with the fa- cilities for imparting instruction, teachers included, so far as practicable, and that the same studies, no more and no less, should be taught in each. It will be claimed, perhaps, that, even were all these conditions fulfilled, many parents would be found too poor to permit of their children availing themselves of the opportunity. To the shame of the age it must be said that this is true. But what is this but a still further addition to the already over^vhelming evi- dence presented in this work that there is something very, very rotten in the present order of things? Granting that many parents are intemperate, imjjru- GIVE ALL AN EVEN CHANCE. 2G3 dent, laz}', and tliat for this reason they must expect that their chiklren will suffer, there are still thou- sands upon thousands who have none of these vices, but who are industrious and respectable citi- zens, and yet from the extreme poverty of the parents the children cannot avail themselves of the opportu- nity to obtain a good common school education. Such evidence speaks volumes against a property system that denies to the principal producers of all wealth the means of attaining comfort and happiness, while educating, at the same time, the sharp, the shrewd, the more competent, if you please, at their expense. As long as there is no head, no general established authority, to devise and direct in such matters, but it is left to municipalities and districts to control each in its own Avay, there can be no general or national uniformity in our system of public edu- cation. To illustrate, Albany might enact that her public schools should furnish pupils with the highest nni\'ersity education, Avhile New York might elect to teach merely a few of the elementary branches. But, while we may not expect uniformity in the privileges and facilities afforded for a popular education under a government so complex as our own — a deficiency which, to my mind, is extremely deplorable — we cer- tainly have the right to expect that such privileges and facilities as are afforded by each separate mu- nici])alitv or district shall be extended to each and all alike.^ The power to regulate public education should be coiiferred upon either the state or general govern- ment, even so far as to say what studies shall be 264 LIBRAKIES IN THE NEW EEPUBLIC. taught and what means provided for teaching them, so that the privileges afforded for obtaining a com- mon school education may be uniform throughout the land. School funds, I repeat and insist, gath- ered as they are by a general tax upon the people, are common property, and should be dealt with upon Communistic principles. It is with pleasure that I now call the attention of the reader to the privileges and facilities offered the youth, or, indeed, those of all ages, in the New Re- public, for obtaining that higher and more complete education to which the common schools were but the preparatory course that enabled the seeker after knowledge to penetrate into the exuberant fields be- youd and gather from a harvest that could never be wholly garnered. The library of each and every communit}" was replete with the standard works of the best authors upon literature, science, art — in short, everything requisite to form the kernel of all useful knowledge extant — which were supjilemented by specific treatises upon all the more important and useful subjects. In the libraries the youth, or those of an}- age, might indulge their taste for the pursuit of informa- tion beyond the limits of what could well be taught in the common schools. And it was here, in these libraries, poring over the works upon some special subject, that the taste or natural bent of the mind asserted itself and indicated the natural gifts of the student. It has proved true as a rule, I think, that all are endowed with some peculiar fitness for that to which HIGHER UNIVERSITIES. 265 they most aspire, and when opportunity is presented this Liw of our nature asserts itself. It was in the reading-room of Library Hall, there- fore, where ample time Avas afforded all for reading and study, that the future artist, poet, scientist, or teacher, could be readily singled out by his persistent study of that which most interested and delighted him. Often his taste or desire for pursuing some specialty was satisfied through such opportunity as was afforded for investigation in the libraries ; and with naught but the advantages derived here, many became to a more or less degree proficient in the several branches to which they had specially de- voted themselves, while others, with these same ad- vantages, attained eminence in the same direction. Others, again, were not satisfied until they could probe to the very bottom of their chosen specialty, and for such more ample facilities for research were required than the libraries afforded. For the benefit of these Avere established the universities located at Science Hall in the several cities. Here, provided in every department with competent instructors, and furnished with every known mechanical facilit}^ for illustration and demonstration, the student had not only the opportunity afforded him for acquiring all extant knowledge of his special study, but also for pushing his investigations still farther into the vast realm of the unknown. The privilege of entering these universities, after finishing their scholastic term in the common schools, was accorded to all, but not compulsory. They selected for themselves their specialty, and received instruc- tion at the university iu only Avhat pertained to or 266 DEAD LANGUAGES. was tliou