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Title: Anarchism and Other Essays

Author: Emma Goldman

Contributor: Hippolyte Havel

Release date: April 1, 2000 [eBook #2162]
Most recently updated: December 31, 2020

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2162

Credits: Produced by Eva. HTML version by Al Haines.

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANARCHISM
AND OTHER ESSAYS ***

ANARCHISM AND OTHER
ESSAYS

Emma Goldman

With Biographic Sketch by Hippolyte Havel

CONTENTS
Biographic Sketch

Preface

Anarchism: What It Really Stands For

Minorities Versus Majorities

The Psychology of Political Violence

Prisons: A Social Crime and Failure

Patriotism: A Menace to Liberty

Francisco Ferrer and The Modern School

The Hypocrisy of Puritanism

The Traffic in Women

Woman Suffrage

The Tragedy of Woman's Emancipation

Marriage and Love

The Drama: A Powerful Disseminator of Radical Thought

EMMA GOLDMAN

Propagandism is not, as some suppose, a "trade," because nobody will follow a
"trade" at which you may work with the industry of a slave and die with the
reputation of a mendicant. The motives of any persons to pursue such a
profession must be different from those of trade, deeper than pride, and stronger
than interest.

GEORGE JACOB HOLYOAKE.

Among the men and women prominent in the public life of America
there are but few whose names are mentioned as often as that of Emma
Goldman. Yet the real Emma Goldman is almost quite unknown. The
sensational press has surrounded her name with so much misrepresentation
and slander, it would seem almost a miracle that, in spite of this web of
calumny, the truth breaks through and a better appreciation of this much
maligned idealist begins to manifest itself. There is but little consolation in
the fact that almost every representative of a new idea has had to struggle
and suffer under similar difficulties. Is it of any avail that a former president
of a republic pays homage at Osawatomie to the memory of John Brown?
Or that the president of another republic participates in the unveiling of a
statue in honor of Pierre Proudhon, and holds up his life to the French
nation as a model worthy of enthusiastic emulation? Of what avail is all this
when, at the same time, the LIVING John Browns and Proudhons are being
crucified? The honor and glory of a Mary Wollstonecraft or of a Louise
Michel are not enhanced by the City Fathers of London or Paris naming a
street after them—the living generation should be concerned with doing
justice to the LIVING Mary Wollstonecrafts and Louise Michels. Posterity
assigns to men like Wendel Phillips and Lloyd Garrison the proper niche of
honor in the temple of human emancipation; but it is the duty of their
contemporaries to bring them due recognition and appreciation while they
live.

The path of the propagandist of social justice is strewn with thorns. The
powers of darkness and injustice exert all their might lest a ray of sunshine

enter his cheerless life. Nay, even his comrades in the struggle—indeed, too
often his most intimate friends—show but little understanding for the
personality of the pioneer. Envy, sometimes growing to hatred, vanity and
jealousy, obstruct his way and fill his heart with sadness. It requires an
inflexible will and tremendous enthusiasm not to lose, under such
conditions, all faith in the Cause. The representative of a revolutionizing
idea stands between two fires: on the one hand, the persecution of the
existing powers which hold him responsible for all acts resulting from
social conditions; and, on the other, the lack of understanding on the part of
his own followers who often judge all his activity from a narrow standpoint.
Thus it happens that the agitator stands quite alone in the midst of the
multitude surrounding him. Even his most intimate friends rarely
understand how solitary and deserted he feels. That is the tragedy of the
person prominent in the public eye.

The mist in which the name of Emma Goldman has so long been
enveloped is gradually beginning to dissipate. Her energy in the furtherance
of such an unpopular idea as Anarchism, her deep earnestness, her courage
and abilities, find growing understanding and admiration.

The debt American intellectual growth owes to the revolutionary exiles
has never been fully appreciated. The seed disseminated by them, though so
little understood at the time, has brought a rich harvest. They have at all
times held aloft the banner of liberty, thus impregnating the social vitality of
the Nation. But very few have succeeding in preserving their European
education and culture while at the same time assimilating themselves with
American life. It is difficult for the average man to form an adequate
conception what strength, energy, and perseverance are necessary to absorb
the unfamiliar language, habits, and customs of a new country, without the
loss of one's own personality.

Emma Goldman is one of the few who, while thoroughly preserving
their individuality, have become an important factor in the social and
intellectual atmosphere of America. The life she leads is rich in color, full of
change and variety. She has risen to the topmost heights, and she has also
tasted the bitter dregs of life.

Emma Goldman was born of Jewish parentage on the 27th day of June,
1869, in the Russian province of Kovno. Surely these parents never
dreamed what unique position their child would some day occupy. Like all
conservative parents they, too, were quite convinced that their daughter
would marry a respectable citizen, bear him children, and round out her
allotted years surrounded by a flock of grandchildren, a good, religious
woman. As most parents, they had no inkling what a strange, impassioned
spirit would take hold of the soul of their child, and carry it to the heights
which separate generations in eternal struggle. They lived in a land and at a
time when antagonism between parent and offspring was fated to find its
most acute expression, irreconcilable hostility. In this tremendous struggle
between fathers and sons—and especially between parents and daughters—
there was no compromise, no weak yielding, no truce. The spirit of liberty,
of progress—an idealism which knew no considerations and recognized no
obstacles—drove the young generation out of the parental house and away
from the hearth of the home. Just as this same spirit once drove out the
revolutionary breeder of discontent, Jesus, and alienated him from his
native traditions.

What role the Jewish race—notwithstanding all anti-semitic calumnies
the race of transcendental idealism—played in the struggle of the Old and
the New will probably never be appreciated with complete impartiality and
clarity. Only now are we beginning to perceive the tremendous debt we owe
to Jewish idealists in the realm of science, art, and literature. But very little
is still known of the important part the sons and daughters of Israel have
played in the revolutionary movement and, especially, in that of modern
times.

The first years of her childhood Emma Goldman passed in a small,
idyllic place in the German-Russian province of Kurland, where her father
had charge of the government stage. At the time Kurland was thoroughly
German; even the Russian bureaucracy of that Baltic province was recruited
mostly from German JUNKERS. German fairy tales and stories, rich in the
miraculous deeds of the heroic knights of Kurland, wove their spell over the
youthful mind. But the beautiful idyl was of short duration. Soon the soul of
the growing child was overcast by the dark shadows of life. Already in her
tenderest youth the seeds of rebellion and unrelenting hatred of oppression

were to be planted in the heart of Emma Goldman. Early she learned to
know the beauty of the State: she saw her father harassed by the Christian
CHINOVNIKS and doubly persecuted as petty official and hated Jew. The
brutality of forced conscription ever stood before her eyes: she beheld the
young men, often the sole supporter of a large family, brutally dragged to
the barracks to lead the miserable life of a soldier. She heard the weeping of
the poor peasant women, and witnessed the shameful scenes of official
venality which relieved the rich from military service at the expense of the
poor. She was outraged by the terrible treatment to which the female
servants were subjected: maltreated and exploited by their BARINYAS,
they fell to the tender mercies of the regimental officers, who regarded them
as their natural sexual prey. The girls, made pregnant by respectable
gentlemen and driven out by their mistresses, often found refuge in the
Goldman home. And the little girl, her heart palpitating with sympathy,
would abstract coins from the parental drawer to clandestinely press the
money into the hands of the unfortunate women. Thus Emma Goldman's
most striking characteristic, her sympathy with the underdog, already
became manifest in these early years.

At the age of seven little Emma was sent by her parents to her
grandmother at Konigsberg, the city of Emanuel Kant, in Eastern Prussia.
Save for occasional interruptions, she remained there till her 13th birthday.
The first years in these surroundings do not exactly belong to her happiest
recollections. The grandmother, indeed, was very amiable, but the
numerous aunts of the household were concerned more with the spirit of
practical rather than pure reason, and the categoric imperative was applied
all too frequently. The situation was changed when her parents migrated to
Konigsberg, and little Emma was relieved from her role of Cinderella. She
now regularly attended public school and also enjoyed the advantages of
private instruction, customary in middle class life; French and music
lessons played an important part in the curriculum. The future interpreter of
Ibsen and Shaw was then a little German Gretchen, quite at home in the
German atmosphere. Her special predilections in literature were the
sentimental romances of Marlitt; she was a great admirer of the good Queen
Louise, whom the bad Napoleon Buonaparte treated with so marked a lack
of knightly chivalry. What might have been her future development had she
remained in this milieu? Fate—or was it economic necessity?—willed it

otherwise. Her parents decided to settle in St. Petersburg, the capital of the
Almighty Tsar, and there to embark in business. It was here that a great
change took place in the life of the young dreamer.

It was an eventful period—the year of 1882—in which Emma Goldman,
then in her 13th year, arrived in St. Petersburg. A struggle for life and death
between the autocracy and the Russian intellectuals swept the country.
Alexander II had fallen the previous year. Sophia Perovskaia, Zheliabov,
Grinevitzky, Rissakov, Kibalchitch, Michailov, the heroic executors of the
death sentence upon the tyrant, had then entered the Walhalla of
immortality. Jessie Helfman, the only regicide whose life the government
had reluctantly spared because of pregnancy, followed the unnumbered
Russian martyrs to the etapes of Siberia. It was the most heroic period in the
great battle of emancipation, a battle for freedom such as the world had
never witnessed before. The names of the Nihilist martyrs were on all lips,
and thousands were enthusiastic to follow their example. The whole
INTELLIGENZIA of Russia was filled with the ILLEGAL spirit:
revolutionary sentiments penetrated into every home, from mansion to
hovel, impregnating the military, the CHINOVNIKS, factory workers, and
peasants. The atmosphere pierced the very casemates of the royal palace.
New ideas germinated in the youth. The difference of sex was forgotten.
Shoulder to shoulder fought the men and the women. The Russian woman!
Who shall ever do justice or adequately portray her heroism and self-
sacrifice, her loyalty and devotion? Holy, Turgeniev calls her in his great
prose poem, ON THE THRESHOLD.

It was inevitable that the young dreamer from Konigsberg should be
drawn into the maelstrom. To remain outside of the circle of free ideas
meant a life of vegetation, of death. One need not wonder at the youthful
age. Young enthusiasts were not then—and, fortunately, are not now—a
rare phenomenon in Russia. The study of the Russian language soon
brought young Emma Goldman in touch with revolutionary students and
new ideas. The place of Marlitt was taken by Nekrassov and
Tchernishevsky. The quondam admirer of the good Queen Louise became a
glowing enthusiast of liberty, resolving, like thousands of others, to devote
her life to the emancipation of the people.

The struggle of generations now took place in the Goldman family. The
parents could not comprehend what interest their daughter could find in the
new ideas, which they themselves considered fantastic utopias. They strove
to persuade the young girl out of these chimeras, and daily repetition of
soul-racking disputes was the result. Only in one member of the family did
the young idealist find understanding—in her elder sister, Helene, with
whom she later emigrated to America, and whose love and sympathy have
never failed her. Even in the darkest hours of later persecution Emma
Goldman always found a haven of refuge in the home of this loyal sister.

Emma Goldman finally resolved to achieve her independence. She saw
hundreds of men and women sacrificing brilliant careers to go V NAROD,
to the people. She followed their example. She became a factory worker; at
first employed as a corset maker, and later in the manufacture of gloves.
She was now 17 years of age and proud to earn her own living. Had she
remained in Russia, she would have probably sooner or later shared the fate
of thousands buried in the snows of Siberia. But a new chapter of life was
to begin for her. Sister Helene decided to emigrate to America, where
another sister had already made her home. Emma prevailed upon Helene to
be allowed to join her, and together they departed for America, filled with
the joyous hope of a great, free land, the glorious Republic.

America! What magic word. The yearning of the enslaved, the promised
land of the oppressed, the goal of all longing for progress. Here man's ideals
had found their fulfillment: no Tsar, no Cossack, no CHINOVNIK. The
Republic! Glorious synonym of equality, freedom, brotherhood.

Thus thought the two girls as they travelled, in the year 1886, from New
York to Rochester. Soon, all too soon, disillusionment awaited them. The
ideal conception of America was punctured already at Castle Garden, and
soon burst like a soap bubble. Here Emma Goldman witnessed sights which
reminded her of the terrible scenes of her childhood in Kurland. The
brutality and humiliation the future citizens of the great Republic were
subjected to on board ship, were repeated at Castle Garden by the officials
of the democracy in a more savage and aggravating manner. And what bitter
disappointment followed as the young idealist began to familiarize herself

with the conditions in the new land! Instead of one Tsar, she found scores of
them; the Cossack was replaced by the policeman with the heavy club, and
instead of the Russian CHINOVNIK there was the far more inhuman slave-
driver of the factory.

Emma Goldman soon obtained work in the clothing establishment of the
Garson Co. The wages amounted to two and a half dollars a week. At that
time the factories were not provided with motor power, and the poor sewing
girls had to drive the wheels by foot, from early morning till late at night. A
terribly exhausting toil it was, without a ray of light, the drudgery of the
long day passed in complete silence—the Russian custom of friendly
conversation at work was not permissible in the free country. But the
exploitation of the girls was not only economic; the poor wage workers
were looked upon by their foremen and bosses as sexual commodities. If a
girl resented the advances of her "superiors", she would speedily find
herself on the street as an undesirable element in the factory. There was
never a lack of willing victims: the supply always exceeded the demand.

The horrible conditions were made still more unbearable by the fearful
dreariness of life in the small American city. The Puritan spirit suppresses
the slightest manifestation of joy; a deadly dullness beclouds the soul; no
intellectual inspiration, no thought exchange between congenial spirits is
possible. Emma Goldman almost suffocated in this atmosphere. She, above
all others, longed for ideal surroundings, for friendship and understanding,
for the companionship of kindred minds. Mentally she still lived in Russia.
Unfamiliar with the language and life of the country, she dwelt more in the
past than in the present. It was at this period that she met a young man who
spoke Russian. With great joy the acquaintance was cultivated. At last a
person with whom she could converse, one who could help her bridge the
dullness of the narrow existence. The friendship gradually ripened and
finally culminated in marriage.

Emma Goldman, too, had to walk the sorrowful road of married life; she,
too, had to learn from bitter experience that legal statutes signify
dependence and self-effacement, especially for the woman. The marriage
was no liberation from the Puritan dreariness of American life; indeed, it
was rather aggravated by the loss of self-ownership. The characters of the

young people differed too widely. A separation soon followed, and Emma
Goldman went to New Haven, Conn. There she found employment in a
factory, and her husband disappeared from her horizon. Two decades later
she was fated to be unexpectedly reminded of him by the Federal
authorities.

The revolutionists who were active in the Russian movement of the 80's
were but little familiar with the social ideas then agitating Western Europe
and America. Their sole activity consisted in educating the people, their
final goal the destruction of the autocracy. Socialism and Anarchism were
terms hardly known even by name. Emma Goldman, too, was entirely
unfamiliar with the significance of those ideals.

She arrived in America, as four years previously in Russia, at a period of
great social and political unrest. The working people were in revolt against
the terrible labor conditions; the eight-hour movement of the Knights of
Labor was at its height, and throughout the country echoed the din of
sanguine strife between strikers and police. The struggle culminated in the
great strike against the Harvester Company of Chicago, the massacre of the
strikers, and the judicial murder of the labor leaders, which followed upon
the historic Haymarket bomb explosion. The Anarchists stood the martyr
test of blood baptism. The apologists of capitalism vainly seek to justify the
killing of Parsons, Spies, Lingg, Fischer, and Engel. Since the publication
of Governor Altgeld's reason for his liberation of the three incarcerated
Haymarket Anarchists, no doubt is left that a fivefold legal murder had been
committed in Chicago, in 1887.

Very few have grasped the significance of the Chicago martyrdom; least
of all the ruling classes. By the destruction of a number of labor leaders
they thought to stem the tide of a world-inspiring idea. They failed to
consider that from the blood of the martyrs grows the new seed, and that the
frightful injustice will win new converts to the Cause.

The two most prominent representatives of the Anarchist idea in
America, Voltairine de Cleyre and Emma Goldman—the one a native
American, the other a Russian—have been converted, like numerous others,
to the ideas of Anarchism by the judicial murder. Two women who had not

known each other before, and who had received a widely different
education, were through that murder united in one idea.

Like most working men and women of America, Emma Goldman
followed the Chicago trial with great anxiety and excitement. She, too,
could not believe that the leaders of the proletariat would be killed. The
11th of November, 1887, taught her differently. She realized that no mercy
could be expected from the ruling class, that between the Tsarism of Russia
and the plutocracy of America there was no difference save in name. Her
whole being rebelled against the crime, and she vowed to herself a solemn
vow to join the ranks of the revolutionary proletariat and to devote all her
energy and strength to their emancipation from wage slavery. With the
glowing enthusiasm so characteristic of her nature, she now began to
familiarize herself with the literature of Socialism and Anarchism. She
attended public meetings and became acquainted with socialistically and
anarchistically inclined workingmen. Johanna Greie, the well-known
German lecturer, was the first Socialist speaker heard by Emma Goldman.
In New Haven, Conn., where she was employed in a corset factory, she met
Anarchists actively participating in the movement. Here she read the
FREIHEIT, edited by John Most. The Haymarket tragedy developed her
inherent Anarchist tendencies: the reading of the FREIHEIT made her a
conscious Anarchist. Subsequently she was to learn that the idea of
Anarchism found its highest expression through the best intellects of
America: theoretically by Josiah Warren, Stephen Pearl Andrews, Lysander
Spooner; philosophically by Emerson, Thoreau, and Walt Whitman.

Made ill by the excessive strain of factory work, Emma Goldman
returned to Rochester where she remained till August, 1889, at which time
she removed to New York, the scene of the most important phase of her life.
She was now twenty years old. Features pallid with suffering, eyes large
and full of compassion, greet one in her pictured likeness of those days. Her
hair is, as customary with Russian student girls, worn short, giving free play
to the strong forehead.

It is the heroic epoch of militant Anarchism. By leaps and bounds the
movement had grown in every country. In spite of the most severe

governmental persecution new converts swell the ranks. The propaganda is
almost exclusively of a secret character. The repressive measures of the
government drive the disciples of the new philosophy to conspirative
methods. Thousands of victims fall into the hands of the authorities and
languish in prisons. But nothing can stem the rising tide of enthusiasm, of
self-sacrifice and devotion to the Cause. The efforts of teachers like Peter
Kropotkin, Louise Michel, Elisee Reclus, and others, inspire the devotees
with ever greater energy.

Disruption is imminent with the Socialists, who have sacrificed the idea
of liberty and embraced the State and politics. The struggle is bitter, the
factions irreconcilable. This struggle is not merely between Anarchists and
Socialists; it also finds its echo within the Anarchist groups. Theoretic
differences and personal controversies lead to strife and acrimonious
enmities. The anti-Socialist legislation of Germany and Austria had driven
thousands of Socialists and Anarchists across the seas to seek refuge in
America. John Most, having lost his seat in the Reichstag, finally had to
flee his native land, and went to London. There, having advanced toward
Anarchism, he entirely withdrew from the Social Democratic Party. Later,
coming to America, he continued the publication of the FREIHEIT in New
York, and developed great activity among the German workingmen.

When Emma Goldman arrived in New York in 1889, she experienced
little difficulty in associating herself with active Anarchists. Anarchist
meetings were an almost daily occurrence. The first lecturer she heard on
the Anarchist platform was Dr. A. Solotaroff. Of great importance to her
future development was her acquaintance with John Most, who exerted a
tremendous influence over the younger elements. His impassioned
eloquence, untiring energy, and the persecution he had endured for the
Cause, all combined to enthuse the comrades. It was also at this period that
she met Alexander Berkman, whose friendship played an important part
throughout her life. Her talents as a speaker could not long remain in
obscurity. The fire of enthusiasm swept her toward the public platform.
Encouraged by her friends, she began to participate as a German and
Yiddish speaker at Anarchist meetings. Soon followed a brief tour of
agitation taking her as far as Cleveland. With the whole strength and
earnestness of her soul she now threw herself into the propaganda of

Anarchist ideas. The passionate period of her life had begun. Through
constantly toiling in sweat shops, the fiery young orator was at the same
time very active as an agitator and participated in various labor struggles,
notably in the great cloakmakers' strike, in 1889, led by Professor Garsyde
and Joseph Barondess.

A year later Emma Goldman was a delegate to an Anarchist conference
in New York. She was elected to the Executive Committee, but later
withdrew because of differences of opinion regarding tactical matters. The
ideas of the German-speaking Anarchists had at that time not yet become
clarified. Some still believed in parliamentary methods, the great majority
being adherents of strong centralism. These differences of opinion in regard
to tactics led in 1891 to a breach with John Most. Emma Goldman,
Alexander Berkman, and other comrades joined the group AUTONOMY, in
which Joseph Peukert, Otto Rinke, and Claus Timmermann played an active
part. The bitter controversies which followed this secession terminated only
with the death of Most, in 1906.

A great source of inspiration to Emma Goldman proved the Russian
revolutionists who were associated in the group ZNAMYA. Goldenberg,
Solotaroff, Zametkin, Miller, Cahan, the poet Edelstadt, Ivan von
Schewitsch, husband of Helene von Racowitza and editor of the
VOLKSZEITUNG, and numerous other Russian exiles, some of whom are
still living, were members of this group. It was also at this time that Emma
Goldman met Robert Reitzel, the German-American Heine, who exerted a
great influence on her development. Through him she became acquainted
with the best writers of modern literature, and the friendship thus begun
lasted till Reitzel's death, in 1898.

The labor movement of America had not been drowned in the Chicago
massacre; the murder of the Anarchists had failed to bring peace to the
profit-greedy capitalist. The struggle for the eight-hour day continued. In
1892 broke out the great strike in Pittsburg. The Homestead fight, the defeat
of the Pinkertons, the appearance of the militia, the suppression of the
strikers, and the complete triumph of the reaction are matters of
comparatively recent history. Stirred to the very depths by the terrible

events at the seat of war, Alexander Berkman resolved to sacrifice his life to
the Cause and thus give an object lesson to the wage slaves of America of
active Anarchist solidarity with labor. His attack upon Frick, the Gessler of
Pittsburg, failed, and the twenty-two-year-old youth was doomed to a living
death of twenty-two years in the penitentiary. The bourgeoisie, which for
decades had exalted and eulogized tyrannicide, now was filled with terrible
rage. The capitalist press organized a systematic campaign of calumny and
misrepresentation against Anarchists. The police exerted every effort to
involve Emma Goldman in the act of Alexander Berkman. The feared
agitator was to be silenced by all means. It was only due to the
circumstance of her presence in New York that she escaped the clutches of
the law. It was a similar circumstance which, nine years later, during the
McKinley incident, was instrumental in preserving her liberty. It is almost
incredible with what amount of stupidity, baseness, and vileness the
journalists of the period sought to overwhelm the Anarchist. One must
peruse the newspaper files to realize the enormity of incrimination and
slander. It would be difficult to portray the agony of soul Emma Goldman
experienced in those days. The persecutions of the capitalist press were to
be borne by an Anarchist with comparative equanimity; but the attacks from
one's own ranks were far more painful and unbearable. The act of Berkman
was severely criticized by Most and some of his followers among the
German and Jewish Anarchists. Bitter accusations and recriminations at
public meetings and private gatherings followed. Persecuted on all sides,
both because she championed Berkman and his act, and on account of her
revolutionary activity, Emma Goldman was harassed even to the extent of
inability to secure shelter. Too proud to seek safety in the denial of her
identity, she chose to pass the nights in the public parks rather than expose
her friends to danger or vexation by her visits. The already bitter cup was
filled to overflowing by the attempted suicide of a young comrade who had
shared living quarters with Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, and a
mutual artist friend.

Many changes have since taken place. Alexander Berkman has survived
the Pennsylvania Inferno, and is back again in the ranks of the militant
Anarchists, his spirit unbroken, his soul full of enthusiasm for the ideals of

his youth. The artist comrade is now among the well-known illustrators of
New York. The suicide candidate left America shortly after his unfortunate
attempt to die, and was subsequently arrested and condemned to eight years
of hard labor for smuggling Anarchist literature into Germany. He, too, has
withstood the terrors of prison life, and has returned to the revolutionary
movement, since earning the well deserved reputation of a talented writer in
Germany.

To avoid indefinite camping in the parks Emma Goldman finally was
forced to move into a house on Third Street, occupied exclusively by
prostitutes. There, among the outcasts of our good Christian society, she
could at least rent a bit of a room, and find rest and work at her sewing
machine. The women of the street showed more refinement of feeling and
sincere sympathy than the priests of the Church. But human endurance had
been exhausted by overmuch suffering and privation. There was a complete
physical breakdown, and the renowned agitator was removed to the
"Bohemian Republic"—a large tenement house which derived its
euphonious appellation from the fact that its occupants were mostly
Bohemian Anarchists. Here Emma Goldman found friends ready to aid her.
Justus Schwab, one of the finest representatives of the German
revolutionary period of that time, and Dr. Solotaroff were indefatigable in
the care of the patient. Here, too, she met Edward Brady, the new friendship
subsequently ripening into close intimacy. Brady had been an active
participant in the revolutionary movement of Austria and had, at the time of
his acquaintance with Emma Goldman, lately been released from an
Austrian prison after an incarceration of ten years.

Physicians diagnosed the illness as consumption, and the patient was
advised to leave New York. She went to Rochester, in the hope that the
home circle would help restore her to health. Her parents had several years
previously emigrated to America, settling in that city. Among the leading
traits of the Jewish race is the strong attachment between the members of
the family, and, especially, between parents and children. Though her
conservative parents could not sympathize with the idealist aspirations of
Emma Goldman and did not approve of her mode of life, they now received

their sick daughter with open arms. The rest and care enjoyed in the
parental home, and the cheering presence of the beloved sister Helene,
proved so beneficial that within a short time she was sufficiently restored to
resume her energetic activity.

There is no rest in the life of Emma Goldman. Ceaseless effort and
continuous striving toward the conceived goal are the essentials of her
nature. Too much precious time had already been wasted. It was imperative
to resume her labors immediately. The country was in the throes of a crisis,
and thousands of unemployed crowded the streets of the large industrial
centers. Cold and hungry they tramped through the land in the vain search
for work and bread. The Anarchists developed a strenuous propaganda
among the unemployed and the strikers. A monster demonstration of
striking cloakmakers and of the unemployed took place at Union Square,
New York. Emma Goldman was one of the invited speakers. She delivered
an impassioned speech, picturing in fiery words the misery of the wage
slave's life, and quoted the famous maxim of Cardinal Manning: "Necessity
knows no law, and the starving man has a natural right to a share of his
neighbor's bread." She concluded her exhortation with the words: "Ask for
work. If they do not give you work, ask for bread. If they do not give you
work or bread, then take bread."

The following day she left for Philadelphia, where she was to address a
public meeting. The capitalist press again raised the alarm. If Socialists and
Anarchists were to be permitted to continue agitating, there was imminent
danger that the workingmen would soon learn to understand the manner in
which they are robbed of the joy and happiness of life. Such a possibility
was to be prevented at all cost. The Chief of Police of New York, Byrnes,
procured a court order for the arrest of Emma Goldman. She was detained
by the Philadelphia authorities and incarcerated for several days in the
Moyamensing prison, awaiting the extradition papers which Byrnes
intrusted to Detective Jacobs. This man Jacobs (whom Emma Goldman
again met several years later under very unpleasant circumstances)
proposed to her, while she was returning a prisoner to New York, to betray
the cause of labor. In the name of his superior, Chief Byrnes, he offered
lucrative reward. How stupid men sometimes are! What poverty of
psychologic observation to imagine the possibility of betrayal on the part of

a young Russian idealist, who had willingly sacrificed all personal
considerations to help in labor's emancipation.

In October, 1893, Emma Goldman was tried in the criminal courts of
New York on the charge of inciting to riot. The "intelligent" jury ignored the
testimony of the twelve witnesses for the defense in favor of the evidence
given by one single man—Detective Jacobs. She was found guilty and
sentenced to serve one year in the penitentiary at Blackwell's Island. Since
the foundation of the Republic she was the first woman—Mrs. Surratt
excepted—to be imprisoned for a political offense. Respectable society had
long before stamped upon her the Scarlet Letter.

Emma Goldman passed her time in the penitentiary in the capacity of
nurse in the prison hospital. Here she found opportunity to shed some rays
of kindness into the dark lives of the unfortunates whose sisters of the street
did not disdain two years previously to share with her the same house. She
also found in prison opportunity to study English and its literature, and to
familiarize herself with the great American writers. In Bret Harte, Mark
Twain, Walt Whitman, Thoreau, and Emerson she found great treasures.

She left Blackwell's Island in the month of August, 1894, a woman of
twenty-five, developed and matured, and intellectually transformed. Back
into the arena, richer in experience, purified by suffering. She did not feel
herself deserted and alone any more. Many hands were stretched out to
welcome her. There were at the time numerous intellectual oases in New
York. The saloon of Justus Schwab, at Number Fifty, First Street, was the
center where gathered Anarchists, litterateurs, and bohemians. Among
others she also met at this time a number of American Anarchists, and
formed the friendship of Voltairine de Cleyre, Wm. C. Owen, Miss Van
Etton, and Dyer D. Lum, former editor of the ALARM and executor of the
last wishes of the Chicago martyrs. In John Swinton, the noble old fighter
for liberty, she found one of her staunchest friends. Other intellectual
centers there were: SOLIDARITY, published by John Edelman; LIBERTY,
by the Individualist Anarchist, Benjamin R. Tucker; the REBEL, by Harry
Kelly; DER STURMVOGEL, a German Anarchist publication, edited by
Claus Timmermann; DER ARME TEUFEL, whose presiding genius was
the inimitable Robert Reitzel. Through Arthur Brisbane, now chief

lieutenant of William Randolph Hearst, she became acquainted with the
writings of Fourier. Brisbane then was not yet submerged in the swamp of
political corruption. He sent Emma Goldman an amiable letter to
Blackwell's Island, together with the biography of his father, the
enthusiastic American disciple of Fourier.

Emma Goldman became, upon her release from the penitentiary, a factor
in the public life of New York. She was appreciated in radical ranks for her
devotion, her idealism, and earnestness. Various persons sought her
friendship, and some tried to persuade her to aid in the furtherance of their
special side issues. Thus Rev. Parkhurst, during the Lexow investigation,
did his utmost to induce her to join the Vigilance Committee in order to
fight Tammany Hall. Maria Louise, the moving spirit of a social center,
acted as Parkhurst's go-between. It is hardly necessary to mention what
reply the latter received from Emma Goldman. Incidentally, Maria Louise
subsequently became a Mahatma. During the free silver campaign, ex-
Burgess McLuckie, one of the most genuine personalities in the Homestead
strike, visited New York in an endeavor to enthuse the local radicals for free
silver. He also attempted to interest Emma Goldman, but with no greater
success than Mahatma Maria Louise of Parkhurst-Lexow fame.

In 1894 the struggle of the Anarchists in France reached its highest
expression. The white terror on the part of the Republican upstarts was
answered by the red terror of our French comrades. With feverish anxiety
the Anarchists throughout the world followed this social struggle.
Propaganda by deed found its reverberating echo in almost all countries. In
order to better familiarize herself with conditions in the old world, Emma
Goldman left for Europe, in the year 1895. After a lecture tour in England
and Scotland, she went to Vienna where she entered the ALLGEMEINE
KRANKENHAUS to prepare herself as midwife and nurse, and where at
the same time she studied social conditions. She also found opportunity to
acquaint herself with the newest literature of Europe: Hauptmann,
Nietzsche, Ibsen, Zola, Thomas Hardy, and other artist rebels were read
with great enthusiasm.

In the autumn of 1896 she returned to New York by way of Zurich and
Paris. The project of Alexander Berkman's liberation was on hand. The
barbaric sentence of twenty-two years had roused tremendous indignation
among the radical elements. It was known that the Pardon Board of
Pennsylvania would look to Carnegie and Frick for advice in the case of
Alexander Berkman. It was therefore suggested that these Sultans of
Pennsylvania be approached—not with a view of obtaining their grace, but
with the request that they do not attempt to influence the Board. Ernest
Crosby offered to see Carnegie, on condition that Alexander Berkman
repudiate his act. That, however, was absolutely out of the question. He
would never be guilty of such forswearing of his own personality and self-
respect. These efforts led to friendly relations between Emma Goldman and
the circle of Ernest Crosby, Bolton Hall, and Leonard Abbott. In the year
1897 she undertook her first great lecture tour, which extended as far as
California. This tour popularized her name as the representative of the
oppressed, her eloquence ringing from coast to coast. In California Emma
Goldman became friendly with the members of the Isaak family, and
learned to appreciate their efforts for the Cause. Under tremendous
obstacles the Isaaks first published the FIREBRAND and, upon its
suppression by the Postal Department, the FREE SOCIETY. It was also
during this tour that Emma Goldman met that grand old rebel of sexual
freedom, Moses Harman.

During the Spanish-American war the spirit of chauvinism was at its
highest tide. To check this dangerous situation, and at the same time collect
funds for the revolutionary Cubans, Emma Goldman became affiliated with
the Latin comrades, among others with Gori, Esteve, Palaviccini, Merlino,
Petruccini, and Ferrara. In the year 1899 followed another protracted tour of
agitation, terminating on the Pacific Coast. Repeated arrests and
accusations, though without ultimate bad results, marked every propaganda
tour.

In November of the same year the untiring agitator went on a second
lecture tour to England and Scotland, closing her journey with the first
International Anarchist Congress at Paris. It was at the time of the Boer war,
and again jingoism was at its height, as two years previously it had
celebrated its orgies during the Spanish-American war. Various meetings,

both in England and Scotland, were disturbed and broken up by patriotic
mobs. Emma Goldman found on this occasion the opportunity of again
meeting various English comrades and interesting personalities like Tom
Mann and the sisters Rossetti, the gifted daughters of Dante Gabriel
Rossetti, then publishers of the Anarchist review, the TORCH. One of her
life-long hopes found here its fulfillment: she came in close and friendly
touch with Peter Kropotkin, Enrico Malatesta, Nicholas Tchaikovsky, W.
Tcherkessov, and Louise Michel. Old warriors in the cause of humanity,
whose deeds have enthused thousands of followers throughout the world,
and whose life and work have inspired other thousands with noble idealism
and self-sacrifice. Old warriors they, yet ever young with the courage of
earlier days, unbroken in spirit and filled with the firm hope of the final
triumph of Anarchy.

The chasm in the revolutionary labor movement, which resulted from the
disruption of the INTERNATIONALE, could not be bridged any more. Two
social philosophies were engaged in bitter combat. The International
Congress in 1889, at Paris; in 1892, at Zurich, and in 1896, at London,
produced irreconcilable differences. The majority of Social Democrats,
forswearing their libertarian past and becoming politicians, succeeded in
excluding the revolutionary and Anarchist delegates. The latter decided
thenceforth to hold separate congresses. Their first congress was to take
place in 1900, at Paris. The Socialist renegade, Millerand, who had climbed
into the Ministry of the Interior, here played a Judas role. The congress of
the revolutionists was suppressed, and the delegates dispersed two days
prior to their scheduled opening. But Millerand had no objections against
the Social Democratic Congress, which was afterwards opened with all the
trumpets of the advertiser's art.

However, the renegade did not accomplish his object. A number of
delegates succeeded in holding a secret conference in the house of a
comrade outside of Paris, where various points of theory and tactics were
discussed. Emma Goldman took considerable part in these proceedings, and
on that occasion came in contact with numerous representatives of the
Anarchist movement of Europe.

Owing to the suppression of the congress, the delegates were in danger
of being expelled from France. At this time also came the bad news from
America regarding another unsuccessful attempt to liberate Alexander
Berkman, proving a great shock to Emma Goldman. In November, 1900,
she returned to America to devote herself to her profession of nurse, at the
same time taking an active part in the American propaganda. Among other
activities she organized monster meetings of protest against the terrible
outrages of the Spanish government, perpetrated upon the political
prisoners tortured in Montjuich.

In her vocation as nurse Emma Goldman enjoyed many opportunities of
meeting the most unusual and peculiar characters. Few would have
identified the "notorious Anarchist" in the small blonde woman, simply
attired in the uniform of a nurse. Soon after her return from Europe she
became acquainted with a patient by the name of Mrs. Stander, a morphine
fiend, suffering excruciating agonies. She required careful attention to
enable her to supervise a very important business she conducted,—that of
Mrs. Warren. In Third Street, near Third Avenue, was situated her private
residence, and near it, connected by a separate entrance, was her place of
business. One evening, the nurse, upon entering the room of her patient,
suddenly came face to face with a male visitor, bull-necked and of brutal
appearance. The man was no other than Mr. Jacobs, the detective who seven
years previously had brought Emma Goldman a prisoner from Philadelphia
and who had attempted to persuade her, on their way to New York, to betray
the cause of the workingmen. It would be difficult to describe the
expression of bewilderment on the countenance of the man as he so
unexpectedly faced Emma Goldman, the nurse of his mistress. The brute
was suddenly transformed into a gentleman, exerting himself to excuse his
shameful behavior on the previous occasion. Jacobs was the "protector" of
Mrs. Stander, and go-between for the house and the police. Several years
later, as one of the detective staff of District Attorney Jerome, he committed
perjury, was convicted, and sent to Sing Sing for a year. He is now probably
employed by some private detective agency, a desirable pillar of respectable
society.

In 1901 Peter Kropotkin was invited by the Lowell Institute of
Massachusetts to deliver a series of lectures on Russian literature. It was his

second American tour, and naturally the comrades were anxious to use his
presence for the benefit of the movement. Emma Goldman entered into
correspondence with Kropotkin and succeeded in securing his consent to
arrange for him a series of lectures. She also devoted her energies to
organizing the tours of other well known Anarchists, principally those of
Charles W. Mowbray and John Turner. Similarly she always took part in all
the activities of the movement, ever ready to give her time, ability, and
energy to the Cause.

On the sixth of September, 1901, President McKinley was shot by Leon
Czolgosz at Buffalo. Immediately an unprecedented campaign of
persecution was set in motion against Emma Goldman as the best known
Anarchist in the country. Although there was absolutely no foundation for
the accusation, she, together with other prominent Anarchists, was arrested
in Chicago, kept in confinement for several weeks, and subjected to
severest cross-examination. Never before in the history of the country had
such a terrible man-hunt taken place against a person in public life. But the
efforts of police and press to connect Emma Goldman with Czolgosz
proved futile. Yet the episode left her wounded to the heart. The physical
suffering, the humiliation and brutality at the hands of the police she could
bear. The depression of soul was far worse. She was overwhelmed by
realization of the stupidity, lack of understanding, and vileness which
characterized the events of those terrible days. The attitude of
misunderstanding on the part of the majority of her own comrades toward
Czolgosz almost drove her to desperation. Stirred to the very inmost of her
soul, she published an article on Czolgosz in which she tried to explain the
deed in its social and individual aspects. As once before, after Berkman's
act, she now also was unable to find quarters; like a veritable wild animal
she was driven from place to place. This terrible persecution and, especially,
the attitude of her comrades made it impossible for her to continue
propaganda. The soreness of body and soul had first to heal. During 1901-
1903 she did not resume the platform. As "Miss Smith" she lived a quiet
life, practicing her profession and devoting her leisure to the study of
literature and, particularly, to the modern drama, which she considers one of
the greatest disseminators of radical ideas and enlightened feeling.

Yet one thing the persecution of Emma Goldman accomplished. Her
name was brought before the public with greater frequency and emphasis
than ever before, the malicious harassing of the much maligned agitator
arousing strong sympathy in many circles. Persons in various walks of life
began to get interested in her struggle and her ideas. A better understanding
and appreciation were now beginning to manifest themselves.

The arrival in America of the English Anarchist, John Turner, induced
Emma Goldman to leave her retirement. Again she threw herself into her
public activities, organizing an energetic movement for the defense of
Turner, whom the Immigration authorities condemned to deportation on
account of the Anarchist exclusion law, passed after the death of McKinley.

When Paul Orleneff and Mme. Nazimova arrived in New York to
acquaint the American public with Russian dramatic art, Emma Goldman
became the manager of the undertaking. By much patience and
perseverance she succeeded in raising the necessary funds to introduce the
Russian artists to the theater-goers of New York and Chicago. Though
financially not a success, the venture proved of great artistic value. As
manager of the Russian theater Emma Goldman enjoyed some unique
experiences. M. Orleneff could converse only in Russian, and "Miss Smith"
was forced to act as his interpreter at various polite functions. Most of the
aristocratic ladies of Fifth Avenue had not the least inkling that the amiable
manager who so entertainingly discussed philosophy, drama, and literature
at their five o'clock teas, was the "notorious" Emma Goldman. If the latter
should some day write her autobiography, she will no doubt have many
interesting anecdotes to relate in connection with these experiences.

The weekly Anarchist publication, FREE SOCIETY, issued by the Isaak
family, was forced to suspend in consequence of the nation-wide fury that
swept the country after the death of McKinley. To fill out the gap Emma
Goldman, in co-operation with Max Baginski and other comrades, decided
to publish a monthly magazine devoted to the furtherance of Anarchist ideas
in life and literature. The first issue of MOTHER EARTH appeared in the
month of March, 1906, the initial expenses of the periodical partly covered
by the proceeds of a theater benefit given by Orleneff, Mme. Nazimova,
and their company, in favor of the Anarchist magazine. Under tremendous

difficulties and obstacles the tireless propagandist has succeeded in
continuing MOTHER EARTH uninterruptedly since 1906—an achievement
rarely equalled in the annals of radical publications.

In May, 1906, Alexander Berkman at last left the hell of Pennsylvania,
where he had passed the best fourteen years of his life. No one had believed
in the possibility of his survival. His liberation terminated a nightmare of
fourteen years for Emma Goldman, and an important chapter of her career
was thus concluded.

Nowhere had the birth of the Russian revolution aroused such vital and
active response as among the Russians living in America. The heroes of the
revolutionary movement in Russia, Tchaikovsky, Mme. Breshkovskaia,
Gershuni, and others visited these shores to waken the sympathies of the
American people toward the struggle for liberty, and to collect aid for its
continuance and support. The success of these efforts was to a considerable
extent due to the exertions, eloquence, and the talent for organization on the
part of Emma Goldman. This opportunity enabled her to give valuable
services to the struggle for liberty in her native land. It is not generally
known that it is the Anarchists who are mainly instrumental in insuring the
success, moral as well as financial, of most of the radical undertakings. The
Anarchist is indifferent to acknowledged appreciation; the needs of the
Cause absorb his whole interest, and to these he devotes his energy and
abilities. Yet it may be mentioned that some otherwise decent folks, though
at all times anxious for Anarchist support and co-operation, are ever willing
to monopolize all the credit for the work done. During the last several
decades it was chiefly the Anarchists who had organized all the great
revolutionary efforts, and aided in every struggle for liberty. But for fear of
shocking the respectable mob, who looks upon the Anarchists as the
apostles of Satan, and because of their social position in bourgeois society,
the would-be radicals ignore the activity of the Anarchists.

In 1907 Emma Goldman participated as delegate to the second Anarchist
Congress, at Amsterdam. She was intensely active in all its proceedings and
supported the organization of the Anarchist INTERNATIONALE. Together
with the other American delegate, Max Baginski, she submitted to the

congress an exhaustive report of American conditions, closing with the
following characteristic remarks:

"The charge that Anarchism is destructive, rather than constructive, and
that, therefore, Anarchism is opposed to organization, is one of the many
falsehoods spread by our opponents. They confound our present social
institutions with organization; hence they fail to understand how we can
oppose the former, and yet favor the latter. The fact, however, is that the
two are not identical.

"The State is commonly regarded as the highest form of organization.
But is it in reality a true organization? Is it not rather an arbitrary institution,
cunningly imposed upon the masses?

"Industry, too, is called an organization; yet nothing is farther from the
truth. Industry is the ceaseless piracy of the rich against the poor.

"We are asked to believe that the Army is an organization, but a close
investigation will show that it is nothing else than a cruel instrument of
blind force.

"The Public School! The colleges and other institutions of learning, are
they not models of organization, offering the people fine opportunities for
instruction? Far from it. The school, more than any other institution, is a
veritable barrack, where the human mind is drilled and manipulated into
submission to various social and moral spooks, and thus fitted to continue
our system of exploitation and oppression.

"Organization, as WE understand it, however, is a different thing. It is
based, primarily, on freedom. It is a natural and voluntary grouping of
energies to secure results beneficial to humanity.

"It is the harmony of organic growth which produces variety of color and
form, the complete whole we admire in the flower. Analogously will the
organized activity of free human beings, imbued with the spirit of solidarity,
result in the perfection of social harmony, which we call Anarchism. In fact,

Anarchism alone makes non-authoritarian organization of common interests
possible, since it abolishes the existing antagonism between individuals and
classes.

"Under present conditions the antagonism of economic and social
interests results in relentless war among the social units, and creates an
insurmountable obstacle in the way of a co-operative commonwealth.

"There is a mistaken notion that organization does not foster individual
freedom; that, on the contrary, it means the decay of individuality. In reality,
however, the true function of organization is to aid the development and
growth of personality.

"Just as the animal cells, by mutual co-operation, express their latent
powers in formation of the complete organism, so does the individual, by
co-operative effort with other individuals, attain his highest form of
development.

"An organization, in the true sense, cannot result from the combination
of mere nonentities. It must be composed of self-conscious, intelligent
individualities. Indeed, the total of the possibilities and activities of an
organization is represented in the expression of individual energies.

"It therefore logically follows that the greater the number of strong, self-
conscious personalities in an organization, the less danger of stagnation, and
the more intense its life element.

"Anarchism asserts the possibility of an organization without discipline,
fear, or punishment, and without the pressure of poverty: a new social
organism which will make an end to the terrible struggle for the means of
existence,—the savage struggle which undermines the finest qualities in
man, and ever widens the social abyss. In short, Anarchism strives towards
a social organization which will establish well-being for all.

"The germ of such an organization can be found in that form of trades
unionism which has done away with centralization, bureaucracy, and
discipline, and which favors independent and direct action on the part of its
members."

The very considerable progress of Anarchist ideas in America can best
be gauged by the remarkable success of the three extensive lecture tours of
Emma Goldman since the Amsterdam Congress of 1907. Each tour
extended over new territory, including localities where Anarchism had
never before received a hearing. But the most gratifying aspect of her
untiring efforts is the tremendous sale of Anarchist literature, whose
propagandist effect cannot be estimated. It was during one of these tours
that a remarkable incident happened, strikingly demonstrating the inspiring
potentialities of the Anarchist idea. In San Francisco, in 1908, Emma
Goldman's lecture attracted a soldier of the United States Army, William
Buwalda. For daring to attend an Anarchist meeting, the free Republic
court-martialed Buwalda and imprisoned him for one year. Thanks to the
regenerating power of the new philosophy, the government lost a soldier,
but the cause of liberty gained a man.

A propagandist of Emma Goldman's importance is necessarily a sharp
thorn to the reaction. She is looked upon as a danger to the continued
existence of authoritarian usurpation. No wonder, then, that the enemy
resorts to any and all means to make her impossible. A systematic attempt
to suppress her activities was organized a year ago by the united police
force of the country. But like all previous similar attempts, it failed in a
most brilliant manner. Energetic protests on the part of the intellectual
element of America succeeded in overthrowing the dastardly conspiracy
against free speech. Another attempt to make Emma Goldman impossible
was essayed by the Federal authorities at Washington. In order to deprive
her of the rights of citizenship, the government revoked the citizenship
papers of her husband, whom she had married at the youthful age of
eighteen, and whose whereabouts, if he be alive, could not be determined
for the last two decades. The great government of the glorious United States
did not hesitate to stoop to the most despicable methods to accomplish that
achievement. But as her citizenship had never proved of use to Emma
Goldman, she can bear the loss with a light heart.

There are personalities who possess such a powerful individuality that
by its very force they exert the most potent influence over the best
representatives of their time. Michael Bakunin was such a personality. But
for him, Richard Wagner had never written DIE KUNST UND DIE
REVOLUTION. Emma Goldman is a similar personality. She is a strong
factor in the socio-political life of America. By virtue of her eloquence,
energy, and brilliant mentality, she moulds the minds and hearts of
thousands of her auditors.

Deep sympathy and compassion for suffering humanity, and an
inexorable honesty toward herself, are the leading traits of Emma Goldman.
No person, whether friend or foe, shall presume to control her goal or
dictate her mode of life. She would perish rather than sacrifice her
convictions, or the right of self-ownership of soul and body. Respectability
could easily forgive the teaching of theoretic Anarchism; but Emma
Goldman does not merely preach the new philosophy; she also persists in
living it,—and that is the one supreme, unforgivable crime. Were she, like
so many radicals, to consider her ideal as merely an intellectual ornament;
were she to make concessions to existing society and compromise with old
prejudices,—then even the most radical views could be pardoned in her. But
that she takes her radicalism seriously; that it has permeated her blood and
marrow to the extent where she not merely teaches but also practices her
convictions—this shocks even the radical Mrs. Grundy. Emma Goldman
lives her own life; she associates with publicans—hence the indignation of
the Pharisees and Sadducees.

It is no mere coincidence that such divergent writers as Pietro Gori and
William Marion Reedy find similar traits in their characterization of Emma
Goldman. In a contribution to LA QUESTIONE SOCIALE, Pietro Gori
calls her a "moral power, a woman who, with the vision of a sibyl,
prophesies the coming of a new kingdom for the oppressed; a woman who,
with logic and deep earnestness, analyses the ills of society, and portrays,
with artist touch, the coming dawn of humanity, founded on equality,
brotherhood, and liberty."

William Reedy sees in Emma Goldman the "daughter of the dream, her
gospel a vision which is the vision of every truly great-souled man and

woman who has ever lived."

Cowards who fear the consequences of their deeds have coined the word
of philosophic Anarchism. Emma Goldman is too sincere, too defiant, to
seek safety behind such paltry pleas. She is an Anarchist, pure and simple.
She represents the idea of Anarchism as framed by Josiah Warrn, Proudhon,
Bakunin, Kropotkin, Tolstoy. Yet she also understands the psychologic
causes which induce a Caserio, a Vaillant, a Bresci, a Berkman, or a
Czolgosz to commit deeds of violence. To the soldier in the social struggle
it is a point of honor to come in conflict with the powers of darkness and
tyranny, and Emma Goldman is proud to count among her best friends and
comrades men and women who bear the wounds and scars received in
battle.

In the words of Voltairine de Cleyre, characterizing Emma Goldman
after the latter's imprisonment in 1893: The spirit that animates Emma
Goldman is the only one which will emancipate the slave from his slavery,
the tyrant from his tyranny—the spirit which is willing to dare and suffer.

HIPPOLYTE HAVEL.
New York, December, 1910.

PREFACE

Some twenty-one years ago I heard the first great Anarchist speaker—
the inimitable John Most. It seemed to me then, and for many years after,
that the spoken word hurled forth among the masses with such wonderful
eloquence, such enthusiasm and fire, could never be erased from the human
mind and soul. How could any one of all the multitudes who flocked to
Most's meetings escape his prophetic voice! Surely they had but to hear him
to throw off their old beliefs, and see the truth and beauty of Anarchism!

My one great longing then was to be able to speak with the tongue of
John Most,—that I, too, might thus reach the masses. Oh, for the naivety of
Youth's enthusiasm! It is the time when the hardest thing seems but child's
play. It is the only period in life worth while. Alas! This period is but of
short duration. Like Spring, the STURM UND DRANG period of the
propagandist brings forth growth, frail and delicate, to be matured or killed
according to its powers of resistance against a thousand vicissitudes.

My great faith in the wonder worker, the spoken word, is no more. I have
realized its inadequacy to awaken thought, or even emotion. Gradually, and
with no small struggle against this realization, I came to see that oral
propaganda is at best but a means of shaking people from their lethargy: it
leaves no lasting impression. The very fact that most people attend meetings
only if aroused by newspaper sensations, or because they expect to be
amused, is proof that they really have no inner urge to learn.

It is altogether different with the written mode of human expression. No
one, unless intensely interested in progressive ideas, will bother with
serious books. That leads me to another discovery made after many years of
public activity. It is this: All claims of education notwithstanding, the pupil
will accept only that which his mind craves. Already this truth is recognized
by most modern educators in relation to the immature mind. I think it is
equally true regarding the adult. Anarchists or revolutionists can no more be
made than musicians. All that can be done is to plant the seeds of thought.
Whether something vital will develop depends largely on the fertility of the
human soil, though the quality of the intellectual seed must not be
overlooked.

In meetings the audience is distracted by a thousand non-essentials. The
speaker, though ever so eloquent, cannot escape the restlessness of the
crowd, with the inevitable result that he will fail to strike root. In all
probability he will not even do justice to himself.

The relation between the writer and the reader is more intimate. True,
books are only what we want them to be; rather, what we read into them.
That we can do so demonstrates the importance of written as against oral
expression. It is this certainty which has induced me to gather in one
volume my ideas on various topics of individual and social importance.

They represent the mental and soul struggles of twenty-one years,—the
conclusions derived after many changes and inner revisions.

I am not sanguine enough to hope that my readers will be as numerous
as those who have heard me. But I prefer to reach the few who really want
to learn, rather than the many who come to be amused.

As to the book, it must speak for itself. Explanatory remarks do but
detract from the ideas set forth. However, I wish to forestall two objections
which will undoubtedly be raised. One is in reference to the essay on
ANARCHISM; the other, on MINORITIES VERSUS MAJORITIES.

"Why do you not say how things will be operated under Anarchism?" is
a question I have had to meet thousands of times. Because I believe that
Anarchism can not consistently impose an iron-clad program or method on
the future. The things every new generation has to fight, and which it can
least overcome, are the burdens of the past, which holds us all as in a net.
Anarchism, at least as I understand it, leaves posterity free to develop its
own particular systems, in harmony with its needs. Our most vivid
imagination can not foresee the potentialities of a race set free from external
restraints. How, then, can any one assume to map out a line of conduct for
those to come? We, who pay dearly for every breath of pure, fresh air, must
guard against the tendency to fetter the future. If we succeed in clearing the
soil from the rubbish of the past and present, we will leave to posterity the
greatest and safest heritage of all ages.

The most disheartening tendency common among readers is to tear out
one sentence from a work, as a criterion of the writer's ideas or personality.
Friedrich Nietzsche, for instance, is decried as a hater of the weak because
he believed in the UEBERMENSCH. It does not occur to the shallow
interpreters of that giant mind that this vision of the UEBERMENSCH also
called for a state of society which will not give birth to a race of weaklings
and slaves.

It is the same narrow attitude which sees in Max Stirner naught but the
apostle of the theory "each for himself, the devil take the hind one." That
Stirner's individualism contains the greatest social possibilities is utterly

ignored. Yet, it is nevertheless true that if society is ever to become free, it
will be so through liberated individuals, whose free efforts make society.

These examples bring me to the objection that will be raised to
MINORITIES VERSUS MAJORITIES. No doubt, I shall be
excommunicated as an enemy of the people, because I repudiate the mass as
a creative factor. I shall prefer that rather than be guilty of the demagogic
platitudes so commonly in vogue as a bait for the people. I realize the
malady of the oppressed and disinherited masses only too well, but I refuse
to prescribe the usual ridiculous palliatives which allow the patient neither
to die nor to recover. One cannot be too extreme in dealing with social ills;
besides, the extreme thing is generally the true thing. My lack of faith in the
majority is dictated by my faith in the potentialities of the individual. Only
when the latter becomes free to choose his associates for a common
purpose, can we hope for order and harmony out of this world of chaos and
inequality.

For the rest, my book must speak for itself.

Emma Goldman

ANARCHISM: WHAT IT REALLY STANDS FOR

ANARCHY.

Ever reviled, accursed, ne'er understood,
Thou art the grisly terror of our age.
"Wreck of all order," cry the multitude,
"Art thou, and war and murder's endless rage."
O, let them cry. To them that ne'er have striven
The truth that lies behind a word to find,
To them the word's right meaning was not given.
They shall continue blind among the blind.

But thou, O word, so clear, so strong, so pure,
Thou sayest all which I for goal have taken.
I give thee to the future! Thine secure
When each at least unto himself shall waken.
Comes it in sunshine? In the tempest's thrill?
I cannot tell—but it the earth shall see!
I am an Anarchist! Wherefore I will
Not rule, and also ruled I will not be!

JOHN HENRY MACKAY.

The history of human growth and development is at the same time the
history of the terrible struggle of every new idea heralding the approach of a
brighter dawn. In its tenacious hold on tradition, the Old has never hesitated
to make use of the foulest and cruelest means to stay the advent of the New,
in whatever form or period the latter may have asserted itself. Nor need we
retrace our steps into the distant past to realize the enormity of opposition,
difficulties, and hardships placed in the path of every progressive idea. The
rack, the thumbscrew, and the knout are still with us; so are the convict's
garb and the social wrath, all conspiring against the spirit that is serenely
marching on.

Anarchism could not hope to escape the fate of all other ideas of
innovation. Indeed, as the most revolutionary and uncompromising
innovator, Anarchism must needs meet with the combined ignorance and
venom of the world it aims to reconstruct.

To deal even remotely with all that is being said and done against
Anarchism would necessitate the writing of a whole volume. I shall
therefore meet only two of the principal objections. In so doing, I shall
attempt to elucidate what Anarchism really stands for.

The strange phenomenon of the opposition to Anarchism is that it brings
to light the relation between so-called intelligence and ignorance. And yet
this is not so very strange when we consider the relativity of all things. The
ignorant mass has in its favor that it makes no pretense of knowledge or
tolerance. Acting, as it always does, by mere impulse, its reasons are like
those of a child. "Why?" "Because." Yet the opposition of the uneducated to
Anarchism deserves the same consideration as that of the intelligent man.

What, then, are the objections? First, Anarchism is impractical, though a
beautiful ideal. Second, Anarchism stands for violence and destruction,
hence it must be repudiated as vile and dangerous. Both the intelligent man
and the ignorant mass judge not from a thorough knowledge of the subject,
but either from hearsay or false interpretation.

A practical scheme, says Oscar Wilde, is either one already in existence,
or a scheme that could be carried out under the existing conditions; but it is
exactly the existing conditions that one objects to, and any scheme that
could accept these conditions is wrong and foolish. The true criterion of the
practical, therefore, is not whether the latter can keep intact the wrong or
foolish; rather is it whether the scheme has vitality enough to leave the
stagnant waters of the old, and build, as well as sustain, new life. In the
light of this conception, Anarchism is indeed practical. More than any other
idea, it is helping to do away with the wrong and foolish; more than any
other idea, it is building and sustaining new life.

The emotions of the ignorant man are continuously kept at a pitch by the
most blood-curdling stories about Anarchism. Not a thing too outrageous to
be employed against this philosophy and its exponents. Therefore
Anarchism represents to the unthinking what the proverbial bad man does
to the child,—a black monster bent on swallowing everything; in short,
destruction and violence.

Destruction and violence! How is the ordinary man to know that the
most violent element in society is ignorance; that its power of destruction is
the very thing Anarchism is combating? Nor is he aware that Anarchism,
whose roots, as it were, are part of nature's forces, destroys, not healthful
tissue, but parasitic growths that feed on the life's essence of society. It is
merely clearing the soil from weeds and sagebrush, that it may eventually
bear healthy fruit.

Someone has said that it requires less mental effort to condemn than to
think. The widespread mental indolence, so prevalent in society, proves this
to be only too true. Rather than to go to the bottom of any given idea, to
examine into its origin and meaning, most people will either condemn it
altogether, or rely on some superficial or prejudicial definition of non-
essentials.

Anarchism urges man to think, to investigate, to analyze every
proposition; but that the brain capacity of the average reader be not taxed
too much, I also shall begin with a definition, and then elaborate on the
latter.

ANARCHISM:—The philosophy of a new social order based on liberty
unrestricted by man-made law; the theory that all forms of government rest
on violence, and are therefore wrong and harmful, as well as unnecessary.

The new social order rests, of course, on the materialistic basis of life;
but while all Anarchists agree that the main evil today is an economic one,
they maintain that the solution of that evil can be brought about only
through the consideration of EVERY PHASE of life,—individual, as well
as the collective; the internal, as well as the external phases.

A thorough perusal of the history of human development will disclose
two elements in bitter conflict with each other; elements that are only now
beginning to be understood, not as foreign to each other, but as closely
related and truly harmonious, if only placed in proper environment: the
individual and social instincts. The individual and society have waged a
relentless and bloody battle for ages, each striving for supremacy, because
each was blind to the value and importance of the other. The individual and
social instincts,—the one a most potent factor for individual endeavor, for
growth, aspiration, self-realization; the other an equally potent factor for
mutual helpfulness and social well-being.

The explanation of the storm raging within the individual, and between
him and his surroundings, is not far to seek. The primitive man, unable to
understand his being, much less the unity of all life, felt himself absolutely
dependent on blind, hidden forces ever ready to mock and taunt him. Out of
that attitude grew the religious concepts of man as a mere speck of dust
dependent on superior powers on high, who can only be appeased by
complete surrender. All the early sagas rest on that idea, which continues to
be the LEIT-MOTIF of the biblical tales dealing with the relation of man to
God, to the State, to society. Again and again the same motif, MAN IS
NOTHING, THE POWERS ARE EVERYTHING. Thus Jehovah would
only endure man on condition of complete surrender. Man can have all the
glories of the earth, but he must not become conscious of himself. The

State, society, and moral laws all sing the same refrain: Man can have all
the glories of the earth, but he must not become conscious of himself.

Anarchism is the only philosophy which brings to man the
consciousness of himself; which maintains that God, the State, and society
are non-existent, that their promises are null and void, since they can be
fulfilled only through man's subordination. Anarchism is therefore the
teacher of the unity of life; not merely in nature, but in man. There is no
conflict between the individual and the social instincts, any more than there
is between the heart and the lungs: the one the receptacle of a precious life
essence, the other the repository of the element that keeps the essence pure
and strong. The individual is the heart of society, conserving the essence of
social life; society is the lungs which are distributing the element to keep
the life essence—that is, the individual—pure and strong.

"The one thing of value in the world," says Emerson, "is the active soul;
this every man contains within him. The soul active sees absolute truth and
utters truth and creates." In other words, the individual instinct is the thing
of value in the world. It is the true soul that sees and creates the truth alive,
out of which is to come a still greater truth, the re-born social soul.

Anarchism is the great liberator of man from the phantoms that have
held him captive; it is the arbiter and pacifier of the two forces for
individual and social harmony. To accomplish that unity, Anarchism has
declared war on the pernicious influences which have so far prevented the
harmonious blending of individual and social instincts, the individual and
society.

Religion, the dominion of the human mind; Property, the dominion of
human needs; and Government, the dominion of human conduct, represent
the stronghold of man's enslavement and all the horrors it entails. Religion!
How it dominates man's mind, how it humiliates and degrades his soul. God
is everything, man is nothing, says religion. But out of that nothing God has
created a kingdom so despotic, so tyrannical, so cruel, so terribly exacting
that naught but gloom and tears and blood have ruled the world since gods
began. Anarchism rouses man to rebellion against this black monster. Break
your mental fetters, says Anarchism to man, for not until you think and

judge for yourself will you get rid of the dominion of darkness, the greatest
obstacle to all progress.

Property, the dominion of man's needs, the denial of the right to satisfy
his needs. Time was when property claimed a divine right, when it came to
man with the same refrain, even as religion, "Sacrifice! Abnegate! Submit!"
The spirit of Anarchism has lifted man from his prostrate position. He now
stands erect, with his face toward the light. He has learned to see the
insatiable, devouring, devastating nature of property, and he is preparing to
strike the monster dead.

"Property is robbery," said the great French Anarchist, Proudhon. Yes,
but without risk and danger to the robber. Monopolizing the accumulated
efforts of man, property has robbed him of his birthright, and has turned
him loose a pauper and an outcast. Property has not even the time-worn
excuse that man does not create enough to satisfy all needs. The A B C
student of economics knows that the productivity of labor within the last
few decades far exceeds normal demand a hundredfold. But what are
normal demands to an abnormal institution? The only demand that property
recognizes is its own gluttonous appetite for greater wealth, because wealth
means power; the power to subdue, to crush, to exploit, the power to
enslave, to outrage, to degrade. America is particularly boastful of her great
power, her enormous national wealth. Poor America, of what avail is all her
wealth, if the individuals comprising the nation are wretchedly poor? If they
live in squalor, in filth, in crime, with hope and joy gone, a homeless,
soilless army of human prey.

It is generally conceded that unless the returns of any business venture
exceed the cost, bankruptcy is inevitable. But those engaged in the business
of producing wealth have not yet learned even this simple lesson. Every
year the cost of production in human life is growing larger (50,000 killed,
100,000 wounded in America last year); the returns to the masses, who help
to create wealth, are ever getting smaller. Yet America continues to be blind
to the inevitable bankruptcy of our business of production. Nor is this the
only crime of the latter. Still more fatal is the crime of turning the producer
into a mere particle of a machine, with less will and decision than his
master of steel and iron. Man is being robbed not merely of the products of

his labor, but of the power of free initiative, of originality, and the interest
in, or desire for, the things he is making.

Real wealth consists in things of utility and beauty, in things that help to
create strong, beautiful bodies and surroundings inspiring to live in. But if
man is doomed to wind cotton around a spool, or dig coal, or build roads for
thirty years of his life, there can be no talk of wealth. What he gives to the
world is only gray and hideous things, reflecting a dull and hideous
existence,—too weak to live, too cowardly to die. Strange to say, there are
people who extol this deadening method of centralized production as the
proudest achievement of our age. They fail utterly to realize that if we are to
continue in machine subserviency, our slavery is more complete than was
our bondage to the King. They do not want to know that centralization is
not only the death-knell of liberty, but also of health and beauty, of art and
science, all these being impossible in a clock-like, mechanical atmosphere.

Anarchism cannot but repudiate such a method of production: its goal is
the freest possible expression of all the latent powers of the individual.
Oscar Wilde defines a perfect personality as "one who develops under
perfect conditions, who is not wounded, maimed, or in danger." A perfect
personality, then, is only possible in a state of society where man is free to
choose the mode of work, the conditions of work, and the freedom to work.
One to whom the making of a table, the building of a house, or the tilling of
the soil, is what the painting is to the artist and the discovery to the scientist,
—the result of inspiration, of intense longing, and deep interest in work as a
creative force. That being the ideal of Anarchism, its economic
arrangements must consist of voluntary productive and distributive
associations, gradually developing into free communism, as the best means
of producing with the least waste of human energy. Anarchism, however,
also recognizes the right of the individual, or numbers of individuals, to
arrange at all times for other forms of work, in harmony with their tastes
and desires.

Such free display of human energy being possible only under complete
individual and social freedom, Anarchism directs its forces against the third
and greatest foe of all social equality; namely, the State, organized
authority, or statutory law,—the dominion of human conduct.

Just as religion has fettered the human mind, and as property, or the
monopoly of things, has subdued and stifled man's needs, so has the State
enslaved his spirit, dictating every phase of conduct. "All government in
essence," says Emerson, "is tyranny." It matters not whether it is
government by divine right or majority rule. In every instance its aim is the
absolute subordination of the individual.

Referring to the American government, the greatest American Anarchist,
David Thoreau, said: "Government, what is it but a tradition, though a
recent one, endeavoring to transmit itself unimpaired to posterity, but each
instance losing its integrity; it has not the vitality and force of a single
living man. Law never made man a whit more just; and by means of their
respect for it, even the well disposed are daily made agents of injustice."

Indeed, the keynote of government is injustice. With the arrogance and
self-sufficiency of the King who could do no wrong, governments ordain,
judge, condemn, and punish the most insignificant offenses, while
maintaining themselves by the greatest of all offenses, the annihilation of
individual liberty. Thus Ouida is right when she maintains that "the State
only aims at instilling those qualities in its public by which its demands are
obeyed, and its exchequer is filled. Its highest attainment is the reduction of
mankind to clockwork. In its atmosphere all those finer and more delicate
liberties, which require treatment and spacious expansion, inevitably dry up
and perish. The State requires a taxpaying machine in which there is no
hitch, an exchequer in which there is never a deficit, and a public,
monotonous, obedient, colorless, spiritless, moving humbly like a flock of
sheep along a straight high road between two walls."

Yet even a flock of sheep would resist the chicanery of the State, if it
were not for the corruptive, tyrannical, and oppressive methods it employs
to serve its purposes. Therefore Bakunin repudiates the State as
synonymous with the surrender of the liberty of the individual or small
minorities,—the destruction of social relationship, the curtailment, or
complete denial even, of life itself, for its own aggrandizement. The State is
the altar of political freedom and, like the religious altar, it is maintained for
the purpose of human sacrifice.

In fact, there is hardly a modern thinker who does not agree that
government, organized authority, or the State, is necessary ONLY to
maintain or protect property and monopoly. It has proven efficient in that
function only.

Even George Bernard Shaw, who hopes for the miraculous from the
State under Fabianism, nevertheless admits that "it is at present a huge
machine for robbing and slave-driving of the poor by brute force." This
being the case, it is hard to see why the clever prefacer wishes to uphold the
State after poverty shall have ceased to exist.

Unfortunately there are still a number of people who continue in the fatal
belief that government rests on natural laws, that it maintains social order
and harmony, that it diminishes crime, and that it prevents the lazy man
from fleecing his fellows. I shall therefore examine these contentions.

A natural law is that factor in man which asserts itself freely and
spontaneously without any external force, in harmony with the
requirements of nature. For instance, the demand for nutrition, for sex
gratification, for light, air, and exercise, is a natural law. But its expression
needs not the machinery of government, needs not the club, the gun, the
handcuff, or the prison. To obey such laws, if we may call it obedience,
requires only spontaneity and free opportunity. That governments do not
maintain themselves through such harmonious factors is proven by the
terrible array of violence, force, and coercion all governments use in order
to live. Thus Blackstone is right when he says, "Human laws are invalid,
because they are contrary to the laws of nature."

Unless it be the order of Warsaw after the slaughter of thousands of
people, it is difficult to ascribe to governments any capacity for order or
social harmony. Order derived through submission and maintained by terror
is not much of a safe guaranty; yet that is the only "order" that governments
have ever maintained. True social harmony grows naturally out of solidarity
of interests. In a society where those who always work never have anything,
while those who never work enjoy everything, solidarity of interests is non-
existent; hence social harmony is but a myth. The only way organized
authority meets this grave situation is by extending still greater privileges to
those who have already monopolized the earth, and by still further

enslaving the disinherited masses. Thus the entire arsenal of government—
laws, police, soldiers, the courts, legislatures, prisons,—is strenuously
engaged in "harmonizing" the most antagonistic elements in society.

The most absurd apology for authority and law is that they serve to
diminish crime. Aside from the fact that the State is itself the greatest
criminal, breaking every written and natural law, stealing in the form of
taxes, killing in the form of war and capital punishment, it has come to an
absolute standstill in coping with crime. It has failed utterly to destroy or
even minimize the horrible scourge of its own creation.

Crime is naught but misdirected energy. So long as every institution of
today, economic, political, social, and moral, conspires to misdirect human
energy into wrong channels; so long as most people are out of place doing
the things they hate to do, living a life they loathe to live, crime will be
inevitable, and all the laws on the statutes can only increase, but never do
away with, crime. What does society, as it exists today, know of the process
of despair, the poverty, the horrors, the fearful struggle the human soul must
pass on its way to crime and degradation. Who that knows this terrible
process can fail to see the truth in these words of Peter Kropotkin:

"Those who will hold the balance between the benefits thus attributed to
law and punishment and the degrading effect of the latter on humanity;
those who will estimate the torrent of depravity poured abroad in human
society by the informer, favored by the Judge even, and paid for in clinking
cash by governments, under the pretext of aiding to unmask crime; those
who will go within prison walls and there see what human beings become
when deprived of liberty, when subjected to the care of brutal keepers, to
coarse, cruel words, to a thousand stinging, piercing humiliations, will
agree with us that the entire apparatus of prison and punishment is an
abomination which ought to be brought to an end."

The deterrent influence of law on the lazy man is too absurd to merit
consideration. If society were only relieved of the waste and expense of
keeping a lazy class, and the equally great expense of the paraphernalia of
protection this lazy class requires, the social tables would contain an
abundance for all, including even the occasional lazy individual. Besides, it
is well to consider that laziness results either from special privileges, or

physical and mental abnormalities. Our present insane system of production
fosters both, and the most astounding phenomenon is that people should
want to work at all now. Anarchism aims to strip labor of its deadening,
dulling aspect, of its gloom and compulsion. It aims to make work an
instrument of joy, of strength, of color, of real harmony, so that the poorest
sort of a man should find in work both recreation and hope.

To achieve such an arrangement of life, government, with its unjust,
arbitrary, repressive measures, must be done away with. At best it has but
imposed one single mode of life upon all, without regard to individual and
social variations and needs. In destroying government and statutory laws,
Anarchism proposes to rescue the self-respect and independence of the
individual from all restraint and invasion by authority. Only in freedom can
man grow to his full stature. Only in freedom will he learn to think and
move, and give the very best in him. Only in freedom will he realize the
true force of the social bonds which knit men together, and which are the
true foundation of a normal social life.

But what about human nature? Can it be changed? And if not, will it
endure under Anarchism?

Poor human nature, what horrible crimes have been committed in thy
name! Every fool, from king to policeman, from the flatheaded parson to
the visionless dabbler in science, presumes to speak authoritatively of
human nature. The greater the mental charlatan, the more definite his
insistence on the wickedness and weaknesses of human nature. Yet, how
can any one speak of it today, with every soul in a prison, with every heart
fettered, wounded, and maimed?

John Burroughs has stated that experimental study of animals in
captivity is absolutely useless. Their character, their habits, their appetites
undergo a complete transformation when torn from their soil in field and
forest. With human nature caged in a narrow space, whipped daily into
submission, how can we speak of its potentialities?

Freedom, expansion, opportunity, and, above all, peace and repose, alone
can teach us the real dominant factors of human nature and all its wonderful
possibilities.

Anarchism, then, really stands for the liberation of the human mind from
the dominion of religion; the liberation of the human body from the
dominion of property; liberation from the shackles and restraint of
government. Anarchism stands for a social order based on the free grouping
of individuals for the purpose of producing real social wealth; an order that
will guarantee to every human being free access to the earth and full
enjoyment of the necessities of life, according to individual desires, tastes,
and inclinations.

This is not a wild fancy or an aberration of the mind. It is the conclusion
arrived at by hosts of intellectual men and women the world over; a
conclusion resulting from the close and studious observation of the
tendencies of modern society: individual liberty and economic equality, the
twin forces for the birth of what is fine and true in man.

As to methods. Anarchism is not, as some may suppose, a theory of the
future to be realized through divine inspiration. It is a living force in the
affairs of our life, constantly creating new conditions. The methods of
Anarchism therefore do not comprise an iron-clad program to be carried out
under all circumstances. Methods must grow out of the economic needs of
each place and clime, and of the intellectual and temperamental
requirements of the individual. The serene, calm character of a Tolstoy will
wish different methods for social reconstruction than the intense,
overflowing personality of a Michael Bakunin or a Peter Kropotkin.
Equally so it must be apparent that the economic and political needs of
Russia will dictate more drastic measures than would England or America.
Anarchism does not stand for military drill and uniformity; it does,
however, stand for the spirit of revolt, in whatever form, against everything
that hinders human growth. All Anarchists agree in that, as they also agree
in their opposition to the political machinery as a means of bringing about
the great social change.

"All voting," says Thoreau, "is a sort of gaming, like checkers, or
backgammon, a playing with right and wrong; its obligation never exceeds
that of expediency. Even voting for the right thing is doing nothing for it. A
wise man will not leave the right to the mercy of chance, nor wish it to
prevail through the power of the majority." A close examination of the

machinery of politics and its achievements will bear out the logic of
Thoreau.

What does the history of parliamentarism show? Nothing but failure and
defeat, not even a single reform to ameliorate the economic and social stress
of the people. Laws have been passed and enactments made for the
improvement and protection of labor. Thus it was proven only last year that
Illinois, with the most rigid laws for mine protection, had the greatest mine
disasters. In States where child labor laws prevail, child exploitation is at its
highest, and though with us the workers enjoy full political opportunities,
capitalism has reached the most brazen zenith.

Even were the workers able to have their own representatives, for which
our good Socialist politicians are clamoring, what chances are there for
their honesty and good faith? One has but to bear in mind the process of
politics to realize that its path of good intentions is full of pitfalls: wire-
pulling, intriguing, flattering, lying, cheating; in fact, chicanery of every
description, whereby the political aspirant can achieve success. Added to
that is a complete demoralization of character and conviction, until nothing
is left that would make one hope for anything from such a human derelict.
Time and time again the people were foolish enough to trust, believe, and
support with their last farthing aspiring politicians, only to find themselves
betrayed and cheated.

It may be claimed that men of integrity would not become corrupt in the
political grinding mill. Perhaps not; but such men would be absolutely
helpless to exert the slightest influence in behalf of labor, as indeed has
been shown in numerous instances. The State is the economic master of its
servants. Good men, if such there be, would either remain true to their
political faith and lose their economic support, or they would cling to their
economic master and be utterly unable to do the slightest good. The
political arena leaves one no alternative, one must either be a dunce or a
rogue.

The political superstition is still holding sway over the hearts and minds
of the masses, but the true lovers of liberty will have no more to do with it.
Instead, they believe with Stirner that man has as much liberty as he is
willing to take. Anarchism therefore stands for direct action, the open

defiance of, and resistance to, all laws and restrictions, economic, social,
and moral. But defiance and resistance are illegal. Therein lies the salvation
of man. Everything illegal necessitates integrity, self-reliance, and courage.
In short, it calls for free, independent spirits, for "men who are men, and
who have a bone in their backs which you cannot pass your hand through."

Universal suffrage itself owes its existence to direct action. If not for the
spirit of rebellion, of the defiance on the part of the American revolutionary
fathers, their posterity would still wear the King's coat. If not for the direct
action of a John Brown and his comrades, America would still trade in the
flesh of the black man. True, the trade in white flesh is still going on; but
that, too, will have to be abolished by direct action. Trade-unionism, the
economic arena of the modern gladiator, owes its existence to direct action.
It is but recently that law and government have attempted to crush the trade-
union movement, and condemned the exponents of man's right to organize
to prison as conspirators. Had they sought to assert their cause through
begging, pleading, and compromise, trade-unionism would today be a
negligible quantity. In France, in Spain, in Italy, in Russia, nay even in
England (witness the growing rebellion of English labor unions) direct,
revolutionary, economic action has become so strong a force in the battle
for industrial liberty as to make the world realize the tremendous
importance of labor's power. The General Strike, the supreme expression of
the economic consciousness of the workers, was ridiculed in America but a
short time ago. Today every great strike, in order to win, must realize the
importance of the solidaric general protest.

Direct action, having proven effective along economic lines, is equally
potent in the environment of the individual. There a hundred forces
encroach upon his being, and only persistent resistance to them will finally
set him free. Direct action against the authority in the shop, direct action
against the authority of the law, direct action against the invasive,
meddlesome authority of our moral code, is the logical, consistent method
of Anarchism.

Will it not lead to a revolution? Indeed, it will. No real social change has
ever come about without a revolution. People are either not familiar with

their history, or they have not yet learned that revolution is but thought
carried into action.

Anarchism, the great leaven of thought, is today permeating every phase
of human endeavor. Science, art, literature, the drama, the effort for
economic betterment, in fact every individual and social opposition to the
existing disorder of things, is illumined by the spiritual light of Anarchism.
It is the philosophy of the sovereignty of the individual. It is the theory of
social harmony. It is the great, surging, living truth that is reconstructing the
world, and that will usher in the Dawn.

MINORITIES VERSUS MAJORITIES

If I were to give a summary of the tendency of our times, I would say,
Quantity. The multitude, the mass spirit, dominates everywhere, destroying
quality. Our entire life—production, politics, and education—rests on
quantity, on numbers. The worker who once took pride in the thoroughness
and quality of his work, has been replaced by brainless, incompetent
automatons, who turn out enormous quantities of things, valueless to
themselves, and generally injurious to the rest of mankind. Thus quantity,
instead of adding to life's comforts and peace, has merely increased man's
burden.

In politics, naught but quantity counts. In proportion to its increase,
however, principles, ideals, justice, and uprightness are completely
swamped by the array of numbers. In the struggle for supremacy the various
political parties outdo each other in trickery, deceit, cunning, and shady
machinations, confident that the one who succeeds is sure to be hailed by
the majority as the victor. That is the only god,—Success. As to what
expense, what terrible cost to character, is of no moment. We have not far to
go in search of proof to verify this sad fact.

Never before did the corruption, the complete rottenness of our
government stand so thoroughly exposed; never before were the American
people brought face to face with the Judas nature of that political body,
which has claimed for years to be absolutely beyond reproach, as the
mainstay of our institutions, the true protector of the rights and liberties of
the people.

Yet when the crimes of that party became so brazen that even the blind
could see them, it needed but to muster up its minions, and its supremacy
was assured. Thus the very victims, duped, betrayed, outraged a hundred
times, decided, not against, but in favor of the victor. Bewildered, the few
asked how could the majority betray the traditions of American liberty?
Where was its judgment, its reasoning capacity? That is just it, the majority
cannot reason; it has no judgment. Lacking utterly in originality and moral
courage, the majority has always placed its destiny in the hands of others.
Incapable of standing responsibilities, it has followed its leaders even unto
destruction. Dr. Stockman was right: "The most dangerous enemies of truth
and justice in our midst are the compact majorities, the damned compact
majority." Without ambition or initiative, the compact mass hates nothing so
much as innovation. It has always opposed, condemned, and hounded the
innovator, the pioneer of a new truth.

The oft repeated slogan of our time is, among all politicians, the
Socialists included, that ours is an era of individualism, of the minority.
Only those who do not probe beneath the surface might be led to entertain
this view. Have not the few accumulated the wealth of the world? Are they
not the masters, the absolute kings of the situation? Their success, however,
is due not to individualism, but to the inertia, the cravenness, the utter
submission of the mass. The latter wants but to be dominated, to be led, to
be coerced. As to individualism, at no time in human history did it have less
chance of expression, less opportunity to assert itself in a normal, healthy
manner.

The individual educator imbued with honesty of purpose, the artist or
writer of original ideas, the independent scientist or explorer, the non-
compromising pioneers of social changes are daily pushed to the wall by
men whose learning and creative ability have become decrepit with age.

Educators of Ferrer's type are nowhere tolerated, while the dietitians of
predigested food, a la Professors Eliot and Butler, are the successful
perpetuators of an age of nonentities, of automatons. In the literary and
dramatic world, the Humphrey Wards and Clyde Fitches are the idols of the
mass, while but few know or appreciate the beauty and genius of an
Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman; an Ibsen, a Hauptmann, a Butler Yeats, or a
Stephen Phillips. They are like solitary stars, far beyond the horizon of the
multitude.

Publishers, theatrical managers, and critics ask not for the quality
inherent in creative art, but will it meet with a good sale, will it suit the
palate of the people? Alas, this palate is like a dumping ground; it relishes
anything that needs no mental mastication. As a result, the mediocre, the
ordinary, the commonplace represents the chief literary output.

Need I say that in art we are confronted with the same sad facts? One has
but to inspect our parks and thoroughfares to realize the hideousness and
vulgarity of the art manufacture. Certainly, none but a majority taste would
tolerate such an outrage on art. False in conception and barbarous in
execution, the statuary that infests American cities has as much relation to
true art, as a totem to a Michael Angelo. Yet that is the only art that
succeeds. The true artistic genius, who will not cater to accepted notions,
who exercises originality, and strives to be true to life, leads an obscure and
wretched existence. His work may some day become the fad of the mob,
but not until his heart's blood had been exhausted; not until the pathfinder
has ceased to be, and a throng of an idealless and visionless mob has done
to death the heritage of the master.

It is said that the artist of today cannot create because Prometheus-like
he is bound to the rock of economic necessity. This, however, is true of art
in all ages. Michael Angelo was dependent on his patron saint, no less than
the sculptor or painter of today, except that the art connoisseurs of those
days were far away from the madding crowd. They felt honored to be
permitted to worship at the shrine of the master.

The art protector of our time knows but one criterion, one value,—the
dollar. He is not concerned about the quality of any great work, but in the
quantity of dollars his purchase implies. Thus the financier in Mirbeau's

LES AFFAIRES SONT LES AFFAIRES points to some blurred
arrangement in colors, saying "See how great it is; it cost 50,000 francs."
Just like our own parvenues. The fabulous figures paid for their great art
discoveries must make up for the poverty of their taste.

The most unpardonable sin in society is independence of thought. That
this should be so terribly apparent in a country whose symbol is democracy,
is very significant of the tremendous power of the majority.

Wendell Phillips said fifty years ago: "In our country of absolute
democratic equality, public opinion is not only omnipotent, it is
omnipresent. There is no refuge from its tyranny, there is no hiding from its
reach, and the result is that if you take the old Greek lantern and go about to
seek among a hundred, you will not find a single American who has not, or
who does not fancy at least he has, something to gain or lose in his
ambition, his social life, or business, from the good opinion and the votes of
those around him. And the consequence is that instead of being a mass of
individuals, each one fearlessly blurting out his own conviction, as a nation
compared to other nations we are a mass of cowards. More than any other
people we are afraid of each other." Evidently we have not advanced very
far from the condition that confronted Wendell Phillips.

Today, as then, public opinion is the omnipresent tyrant; today, as then,
the majority represents a mass of cowards, willing to accept him who
mirrors its own soul and mind poverty. That accounts for the unprecedented
rise of a man like Roosevelt. He embodies the very worst element of mob
psychology. A politician, he knows that the majority cares little for ideals or
integrity. What it craves is display. It matters not whether that be a dog
show, a prize fight, the lynching of a "nigger," the rounding up of some
petty offender, the marriage exposition of an heiress, or the acrobatic stunts
of an ex-president. The more hideous the mental contortions, the greater the
delight and bravos of the mass. Thus, poor in ideals and vulgar of soul,
Roosevelt continues to be the man of the hour.

On the other hand, men towering high above such political pygmies,
men of refinement, of culture, of ability, are jeered into silence as
mollycoddles. It is absurd to claim that ours is the era of individualism.
Ours is merely a more poignant repetition of the phenomenon of all history:

every effort for progress, for enlightenment, for science, for religious,
political, and economic liberty, emanates from the minority, and not from
the mass. Today, as ever, the few are misunderstood, hounded, imprisoned,
tortured, and killed.

The principle of brotherhood expounded by the agitator of Nazareth
preserved the germ of life, of truth and justice, so long as it was the beacon
light of the few. The moment the majority seized upon it, that great
principle became a shibboleth and harbinger of blood and fire, spreading
suffering and disaster. The attack on the omnipotence of Rome was like a
sunrise amid the darkness of the night, only so long as it was made by the
colossal figures of a Huss, a Calvin, or a Luther. Yet when the mass joined
in the procession against the Catholic monster, it was no less cruel, no less
bloodthirsty than its enemy. Woe to the heretics, to the minority, who would
not bow to its dicta. After infinite zeal, endurance, and sacrifice, the human
mind is at last free from the religious phantom; the minority has gone on in
pursuit of new conquests, and the majority is lagging behind, handicapped
by truth grown false with age.

Politically the human race would still be in the most absolute slavery,
were it not for the John Balls, the Wat Tylers, the Tells, the innumerable
individual giants who fought inch by inch against the power of kings and
tyrants. But for individual pioneers the world would have never been
shaken to its very roots by that tremendous wave, the French Revolution.
Great events are usually preceded by apparently small things. Thus the
eloquence and fire of Camille Desmoulins was like the trumpet before
Jericho, razing to the ground that emblem of torture, of abuse, of horror, the
Bastille.

Always, at every period, the few were the banner bearers of a great idea,
of liberating effort. Not so the mass, the leaden weight of which does not let
it move. The truth of this is borne out in Russia with greater force than
elsewhere. Thousands of lives have already been consumed by that bloody
regime, yet the monster on the throne is not appeased. How is such a thing
possible when ideas, culture, literature, when the deepest and finest
emotions groan under the iron yoke? The majority, that compact, immobile,
drowsy mass, the Russian peasant, after a century of struggle, of sacrifice,

of untold misery, still believes that the rope which strangles "the man with
the white hands"[1] brings luck.

In the American struggle for liberty, the majority was no less of a
stumbling block. Until this very day the ideas of Jefferson, of Patrick
Henry, of Thomas Paine, are denied and sold by their posterity. The mass
wants none of them. The greatness and courage worshipped in Lincoln have
been forgotten in the men who created the background for the panorama of
that time. The true patron saints of the black men were represented in that
handful of fighters in Boston, Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Thoreau,
Margaret Fuller, and Theodore Parker, whose great courage and sturdiness
culminated in that somber giant, John Brown. Their untiring zeal, their
eloquence and perseverance undermined the stronghold of the Southern
lords. Lincoln and his minions followed only when abolition had become a
practical issue, recognized as such by all.

About fifty years ago, a meteor-like idea made its appearance on the
social horizon of the world, an idea so far-reaching, so revolutionary, so all-
embracing as to spread terror in the hearts of tyrants everywhere. On the
other hand, that idea was a harbinger of joy, of cheer, of hope to the
millions. The pioneers knew the difficulties in their way, they knew the
opposition, the persecution, the hardships that would meet them, but proud
and unafraid they started on their march onward, ever onward. Now that
idea has become a popular slogan. Almost everyone is a Socialist today: the
rich man, as well as his poor victim; the upholders of law and authority, as
well as their unfortunate culprits; the freethinker, as well as the perpetuator
of religious falsehoods; the fashionable lady, as well as the shirtwaist girl.
Why not? Now that the truth of fifty years ago has become a lie, now that it
has been clipped of all its youthful imagination, and been robbed of its
vigor, its strength, its revolutionary ideal—why not? Now that it is no
longer a beautiful vision, but a "practical, workable scheme," resting on the
will of the majority, why not? With the same political cunning and
shrewdness the mass is petted, pampered, cheated daily. Its praise is being
sung in many keys: the poor majority, the outraged, the abused, the giant
majority, if only it would follow us.

Who has not heard this litany before? Who does not know this never-
varying refrain of all politicians? That the mass bleeds, that it is being
robbed and exploited, I know as well as our vote-baiters. But I insist that
not the handful of parasites, but the mass itself is responsible for this
horrible state of affairs. It clings to its masters, loves the whip, and is the
first to cry Crucify! the moment a protesting voice is raised against the
sacredness of capitalistic authority or any other decayed institution. Yet how
long would authority and private property exist, if not for the willingness of
the mass to become soldiers, policemen, jailers, and hangmen. The Socialist
demagogues know that as well as I, but they maintain the myth of the
virtues of the majority, because their very scheme of life means the
perpetuation of power. And how could the latter be acquired without
numbers? Yes, power, authority, coercion, and dependence rest on the mass,
but never freedom, never the free unfoldment of the individual, never the
birth of a free society.

Not because I do not feel with the oppressed, the disinherited of the
earth; not because I do not know the shame, the horror, the indignity of the
lives the people lead, do I repudiate the majority as a creative force for
good. Oh, no, no! But because I know so well that as a compact mass it has
never stood for justice or equality. It has suppressed the human voice,
subdued the human spirit, chained the human body. As a mass its aim has
always been to make life uniform, gray, and monotonous as the desert. As a
mass it will always be the annihilator of individuality, of free initiative, of
originality. I therefore believe with Emerson that "the masses are crude,
lame, pernicious in their demands and influence, and need not to be
flattered, but to be schooled. I wish not to concede anything to them, but to
drill, divide, and break them up, and draw individuals out of them. Masses!
The calamity are the masses. I do not wish any mass at all, but honest men
only, lovely, sweet, accomplished women only."

In other words, the living, vital truth of social and economic well-being
will become a reality only through the zeal, courage, the non-compromising
determination of intelligent minorities, and not through the mass.

[1] The intellectuals.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF POLITICAL VIOLENCE

To analyze the psychology of political violence is not only extremely
difficult, but also very dangerous. If such acts are treated with
understanding, one is immediately accused of eulogizing them. If, on the
other hand, human sympathy is expressed with the ATTENTATER,[1] one
risks being considered a possible accomplice. Yet it is only intelligence and
sympathy that can bring us closer to the source of human suffering, and
teach us the ultimate way out of it.

The primitive man, ignorant of natural forces, dreaded their approach,
hiding from the perils they threatened. As man learned to understand
Nature's phenomena, he realized that though these may destroy life and
cause great loss, they also bring relief. To the earnest student it must be
apparent that the accumulated forces in our social and economic life,
culminating in a political act of violence, are similar to the terrors of the
atmosphere, manifested in storm and lightning.

To thoroughly appreciate the truth of this view, one must feel intensely
the indignity of our social wrongs; one's very being must throb with the
pain, the sorrow, the despair millions of people are daily made to endure.
Indeed, unless we have become a part of humanity, we cannot even faintly
understand the just indignation that accumulates in a human soul, the
burning, surging passion that makes the storm inevitable.

The ignorant mass looks upon the man who makes a violent protest
against our social and economic iniquities as upon a wild beast, a cruel,
heartless monster, whose joy it is to destroy life and bathe in blood; or at
best, as upon an irresponsible lunatic. Yet nothing is further from the truth.
As a matter of fact, those who have studied the character and personality of
these men, or who have come in close contact with them, are agreed that it

is their super-sensitiveness to the wrong and injustice surrounding them
which compels them to pay the toll of our social crimes. The most noted
writers and poets, discussing the psychology of political offenders, have
paid them the highest tribute. Could anyone assume that these men had
advised violence, or even approved of the acts? Certainly not. Theirs was
the attitude of the social student, of the man who knows that beyond every
violent act there is a vital cause.

Bjornstjerne Bjornson, in the second part of BEYOND HUMAN
POWER, emphasizes the fact that it is among the Anarchists that we must
look for the modern martyrs who pay for their faith with their blood, and
who welcome death with a smile, because they believe, as truly as Christ
did, that their martyrdom will redeem humanity.

Francois Coppee, the French novelist, thus expresses himself regarding
the psychology of the ATTENTATER:

"The reading of the details of Vaillant's execution left me in a thoughtful
mood. I imagined him expanding his chest under the ropes, marching with
firm step, stiffening his will, concentrating all his energy, and, with eyes
fixed upon the knife, hurling finally at society his cry of malediction. And,
in spite of me, another spectacle rose suddenly before my mind. I saw a
group of men and women pressing against each other in the middle of the
oblong arena of the circus, under the gaze of thousands of eyes, while from
all the steps of the immense amphitheatre went up the terrible cry, AD
LEONES! and, below, the opening cages of the wild beasts.

"I did not believe the execution would take place. In the first place, no
victim had been struck with death, and it had long been the custom not to
punish an abortive crime with the last degree of severity. Then, this crime,
however terrible in intention, was disinterested, born of an abstract idea.
The man's past, his abandoned childhood, his life of hardship, pleaded also
in his favor. In the independent press generous voices were raised in his
behalf, very loud and eloquent. 'A purely literary current of opinion' some
have said, with no little scorn. IT IS, ON THE CONTRARY, AN HONOR
TO THE MEN OF ART AND THOUGHT TO HAVE EXPRESSED ONCE
MORE THEIR DISGUST AT THE SCAFFOLD."

Again Zola, in GERMINAL and PARIS, describes the tenderness and
kindness, the deep sympathy with human suffering, of these men who close
the chapter of their lives with a violent outbreak against our system.

Last, but not least, the man who probably better than anyone else
understands the psychology of the ATTENTATER is M. Hamon, the author
of the brilliant work, UNE PSYCHOLOGIE DU MILITAIRE
PROFESSIONEL, who has arrived at these suggestive conclusions:

"The positive method confirmed by the rational method enables us to
establish an ideal type of Anarchist, whose mentality is the aggregate of
common psychic characteristics. Every Anarchist partakes sufficiently of
this ideal type to make it possible to differentiate him from other men. The
typical Anarchist, then, may be defined as follows: A man perceptible by
the spirit of revolt under one or more of its forms,—opposition,
investigation, criticism, innovation,—endowed with a strong love of liberty,
egoistic or individualistic, and possessed of great curiosity, a keen desire to
know. These traits are supplemented by an ardent love of others, a highly
developed moral sensitiveness, a profound sentiment of justice, and imbued
with missionary zeal."

To the above characteristics, says Alvin F. Sanborn, must be added these
sterling qualities: a rare love of animals, surpassing sweetness in all the
ordinary relations of life, exceptional sobriety of demeanor, frugality and
regularity, austerity, even, of living, and courage beyond compare.[2]

"There is a truism that the man in the street seems always to forget, when
he is abusing the Anarchists, or whatever party happens to be his BETE
NOIRE for the moment, as the cause of some outrage just perpetrated. This
indisputable fact is that homicidal outrages have, from time immemorial,
been the reply of goaded and desperate classes, and goaded and desperate
individuals, to wrongs from their fellowmen, which they felt to be
intolerable. Such acts are the violent recoil from violence, whether
aggressive or repressive; they are the last desperate struggle of outraged and
exasperated human nature for breathing space and life. And their cause lies
not in any special conviction, but in the depths of that human nature itself.
The whole course of history, political and social, is strewn with evidence of
this fact. To go no further, take the three most notorious examples of

political parties goaded into violence during the last fifty years: the
Mazzinians in Italy, the Fenians in Ireland, and the Terrorists in Russia.
Were these people Anarchists? No. Did they all three even hold the same
political opinions? No. The Mazzinians were Republicans, the Fenians
political separatists, the Russians Social Democrats or Constitutionalists.
But all were driven by desperate circumstances into this terrible form of
revolt. And when we turn from parties to individuals who have acted in like
manner, we stand appalled by the number of human beings goaded and
driven by sheer desperation into conduct obviously violently opposed to
their social instincts.

"Now that Anarchism has become a living force in society, such deeds
have been sometimes committed by Anarchists, as well as by others. For no
new faith, even the most essentially peaceable and humane the mind of man
has yet accepted, but at its first coming has brought upon earth not peace,
but a sword; not because of anything violent or anti-social in the doctrine
itself; simply because of the ferment any new and creative idea excites in
men's minds, whether they accept or reject it. And a conception of
Anarchism, which, on one hand, threatens every vested interest, and, on the
other, holds out a vision of a free and noble life to be won by a struggle
against existing wrongs, is certain to rouse the fiercest opposition, and bring
the whole repressive force of ancient evil into violent contact with the
tumultuous outburst of a new hope.

"Under miserable conditions of life, any vision of the possibility of
better things makes the present misery more intolerable, and spurs those
who suffer to the most energetic struggles to improve their lot, and if these
struggles only immediately result in sharper misery, the outcome is sheer
desperation. In our present society, for instance, an exploited wage worker,
who catches a glimpse of what work and life might and ought to be, finds
the toilsome routine and the squalor of his existence almost intolerable; and
even when he has the resolution and courage to continue steadily working
his best, and waiting until new ideas have so permeated society as to pave
the way for better times, the mere fact that he has such ideas and tries to
spread them, brings him into difficulties with his employers. How many
thousands of Socialists, and above all Anarchists, have lost work and even
the chance of work, solely on the ground of their opinions. It is only the

specially gifted craftsman, who, if he be a zealous propagandist, can hope to
retain permanent employment. And what happens to a man with his brain
working actively with a ferment of new ideas, with a vision before his eyes
of a new hope dawning for toiling and agonizing men, with the knowledge
that his suffering and that of his fellows in misery is not caused by the
cruelty of fate, but by the injustice of other human beings,—what happens
to such a man when he sees those dear to him starving, when he himself is
starved? Some natures in such a plight, and those by no means the least
social or the least sensitive, will become violent, and will even feel that
their violence is social and not anti-social, that in striking when and how
they can, they are striking, not for themselves, but for human nature,
outraged and despoiled in their persons and in those of their fellow
sufferers. And are we, who ourselves are not in this horrible predicament, to
stand by and coldly condemn these piteous victims of the Furies and Fates?
Are we to decry as miscreants these human beings who act with heroic self-
devotion, sacrificing their lives in protest, where less social and less
energetic natures would lie down and grovel in abject submission to
injustice and wrong? Are we to join the ignorant and brutal outcry which
stigmatizes such men as monsters of wickedness, gratuitously running
amuck in a harmonious and innocently peaceful society? No! We hate
murder with a hatred that may seem absurdly exaggerated to apologists for
Matabele massacres, to callous acquiescers in hangings and bombardments,
but we decline in such cases of homicide, or attempted homicide, as those
of which we are treating, to be guilty of the cruel injustice of flinging the
whole responsibility of the deed upon the immediate perpetrator. The guilt
of these homicides lies upon every man and woman who, intentionally or
by cold indifference, helps to keep up social conditions that drive human
beings to despair. The man who flings his whole life into the attempt, at the
cost of his own life, to protest against the wrongs of his fellow men, is a
saint compared to the active and passive upholders of cruelty and injustice,
even if his protest destroy other lives besides his own. Let him who is
without sin in society cast the first stone at such an one."[3]

That every act of political violence should nowadays be attributed to
Anarchists is not at all surprising. Yet it is a fact known to almost everyone
familiar with the Anarchist movement that a great number of acts, for which

Anarchists had to suffer, either originated with the capitalist press or were
instigated, if not directly perpetrated, by the police.

For a number of years acts of violence had been committed in Spain, for
which the Anarchists were held responsible, hounded like wild beasts, and
thrown into prison. Later it was disclosed that the perpetrators of these acts
were not Anarchists, but members of the police department. The scandal
became so widespread that the conservative Spanish papers demanded the
apprehension and punishment of the gang-leader, Juan Rull, who was
subsequently condemned to death and executed. The sensational evidence,
brought to light during the trial, forced Police Inspector Momento to
exonerate completely the Anarchists from any connection with the acts
committed during a long period. This resulted in the dismissal of a number
of police officials, among them Inspector Tressols, who, in revenge,
disclosed the fact that behind the gang of police bomb throwers were others
of far higher position, who provided them with funds and protected them.

This is one of the many striking examples of how Anarchist conspiracies
are manufactured.

That the American police can perjure themselves with the same ease,
that they are just as merciless, just as brutal and cunning as their European
colleagues, has been proven on more than one occasion. We need only
recall the tragedy of the eleventh of November, 1887, known as the
Haymarket Riot.

No one who is at all familiar with the case can possibly doubt that the
Anarchists, judicially murdered in Chicago, died as victims of a lying,
bloodthirsty press and of a cruel police conspiracy. Has not Judge Gary
himself said: "Not because you have caused the Haymarket bomb, but
because you are Anarchists, you are on trial."

The impartial and thorough analysis by Governor Altgeld of that blotch
on the American escutcheon verified the brutal frankness of Judge Gary. It
was this that induced Altgeld to pardon the three Anarchists, thereby
earning the lasting esteem of every liberty loving man and woman in the
world.

When we approach the tragedy of September sixth, 1901, we are
confronted by one of the most striking examples of how little social theories
are responsible for an act of political violence. "Leon Czolgosz, an
Anarchist, incited to commit the act by Emma Goldman." To be sure, has
she not incited violence even before her birth, and will she not continue to
do so beyond death? Everything is possible with the Anarchists.

Today, even, nine years after the tragedy, after it was proven a hundred
times that Emma Goldman had nothing to do with the event, that no
evidence whatsoever exists to indicate that Czolgosz ever called himself an
Anarchist, we are confronted with the same lie, fabricated by the police and
perpetuated by the press. No living soul ever heard Czolgosz make that
statement, nor is there a single written word to prove that the boy ever
breathed the accusation. Nothing but ignorance and insane hysteria, which
have never yet been able to solve the simplest problem of cause and effect.

The President of a free Republic killed! What else can be the cause,
except that the ATTENTATER must have been insane, or that he was
incited to the act.

A free Republic! How a myth will maintain itself, how it will continue to
deceive, to dupe, and blind even the comparatively intelligent to its
monstrous absurdities. A free Republic! And yet within a little over thirty
years a small band of parasites have successfully robbed the American
people, and trampled upon the fundamental principles, laid down by the
fathers of this country, guaranteeing to every man, woman, and child "life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." For thirty years they have been
increasing their wealth and power at the expense of the vast mass of
workers, thereby enlarging the army of the unemployed, the hungry,
homeless, and friendless portion of humanity, who are tramping the country
from east to west, from north to south, in a vain search for work. For many
years the home has been left to the care of the little ones, while the parents
are exhausting their life and strength for a mere pittance. For thirty years
the sturdy sons of America have been sacrificed on the battlefield of
industrial war, and the daughters outraged in corrupt factory surroundings.
For long and weary years this process of undermining the nation's health,
vigor, and pride, without much protest from the disinherited and oppressed,

has been going on. Maddened by success and victory, the money powers of
this "free land of ours" became more and more audacious in their heartless,
cruel efforts to compete with the rotten and decayed European tyrannies for
supremacy of power.

In vain did a lying press repudiate Leon Czolgosz as a foreigner. The boy
was a product of our own free American soil, that lulled him to sleep with,
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty.

Who can tell how many times this American child had gloried in the
celebration of the Fourth of July, or of Decoration Day, when he faithfully
honored the Nation's dead? Who knows but that he, too, was willing to
"fight for his country and die for her liberty," until it dawned upon him that
those he belonged to have no country, because they have been robbed of all
that they have produced; until he realized that the liberty and independence
of his youthful dreams were but a farce. Poor Leon Czolgosz, your crime
consisted of too sensitive a social consciousness. Unlike your idealless and
brainless American brothers, your ideals soared above the belly and the
bank account. No wonder you impressed the one human being among all
the infuriated mob at your trial—a newspaper woman—as a visionary,
totally oblivious to your surroundings. Your large, dreamy eyes must have
beheld a new and glorious dawn.

Now, to a recent instance of police-manufactured Anarchist plots. In that
bloodstained city, Chicago, the life of Chief of Police Shippy was attempted
by a young man named Averbuch. Immediately the cry was sent to the four
corners of the world that Averbuch was an Anarchist, and that Anarchists
were responsible for the act. Everyone who was at all known to entertain
Anarchist ideas was closely watched, a number of people arrested, the
library of an Anarchist group confiscated, and all meetings made
impossible. It goes without saying that, as on various previous occasions, I
must needs be held responsible for the act. Evidently the American police
credit me with occult powers. I did not know Averbuch; in fact, had never
before heard his name, and the only way I could have possibly "conspired"
with him was in my astral body. But, then, the police are not concerned with
logic or justice. What they seek is a target, to mask their absolute ignorance

of the cause, of the psychology of a political act. Was Averbuch an
Anarchist? There is no positive proof of it. He had been but three months in
the country, did not know the language, and, as far as I could ascertain, was
quite unknown to the Anarchists of Chicago.

What led to his act? Averbuch, like most young Russian immigrants,
undoubtedly believed in the mythical liberty of America. He received his
first baptism by the policeman's club during the brutal dispersement of the
unemployed parade. He further experienced American equality and
opportunity in the vain efforts to find an economic master. In short, a three
months' sojourn in the glorious land brought him face to face with the fact
that the disinherited are in the same position the world over. In his native
land he probably learned that necessity knows no law—there was no
difference between a Russian and an American policeman.

The question to the intelligent social student is not whether the acts of
Czolgosz or Averbuch were practical, any more than whether the
thunderstorm is practical. The thing that will inevitably impress itself on the
thinking and feeling man and woman is that the sight of brutal clubbing of
innocent victims in a so-called free Republic, and the degrading, soul-
destroying economic struggle, furnish the spark that kindles the dynamic
force in the overwrought, outraged souls of men like Czolgosz or Averbuch.
No amount of persecution, of hounding, of repression, can stay this social
phenomenon.

But, it is often asked, have not acknowledged Anarchists committed acts
of violence? Certainly they have, always however ready to shoulder the
responsibility. My contention is that they were impelled, not by the
teachings of Anarchism, but by the tremendous pressure of conditions,
making life unbearable to their sensitive natures. Obviously, Anarchism, or
any other social theory, making man a conscious social unit, will act as a
leaven for rebellion. This is not a mere assertion, but a fact verified by all
experience. A close examination of the circumstances bearing upon this
question will further clarify my position.

Let us consider some of the most important Anarchist acts within the last
two decades. Strange as it may seem, one of the most significant deeds of

political violence occurred here in America, in connection with the
Homestead strike of 1892.

During that memorable time the Carnegie Steel Company organized a
conspiracy to crush the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel
Workers. Henry Clay Frick, then Chairman of the Company, was intrusted
with that democratic task. He lost no time in carrying out the policy of
breaking the Union, the policy which he had so successfully practiced
during his reign of terror in the coke regions. Secretly, and while peace
negotiations were being purposely prolonged, Frick supervised the military
preparations, the fortification of the Homestead Steel Works, the erection of
a high board fence, capped with barbed wire and provided with loopholes
for sharpshooters. And then, in the dead of night, he attempted to smuggle
his army of hired Pinkerton thugs into Homestead, which act precipitated
the terrible carnage of the steel workers. Not content with the death of
eleven victims, killed in the Pinkerton skirmish, Henry Clay Frick, good
Christian and free American, straightway began the hounding down of the
helpless wives and orphans, by ordering them out of the wretched Company
houses.

The whole country was aroused over these inhuman outrages. Hundreds
of voices were raised in protest, calling on Frick to desist, not to go too far.
Yes, hundreds of people protested,—as one objects to annoying flies. Only
one there was who actively responded to the outrage at Homestead,—
Alexander Berkman. Yes, he was an Anarchist. He gloried in that fact,
because it was the only force that made the discord between his spiritual
longing and the world without at all bearable. Yet not Anarchism, as such,
but the brutal slaughter of the eleven steel workers was the urge for
Alexander Berkman's act, his attempt on the life of Henry Clay Frick.

The record of European acts of political violence affords numerous and
striking instances of the influence of environment upon sensitive human
beings.

The court speech of Vaillant, who, in 1894, exploded a bomb in the Paris
Chamber of Deputies, strikes the true keynote of the psychology of such
acts:

"Gentlemen, in a few minutes you are to deal your blow, but in receiving
your verdict I shall have at least the satisfaction of having wounded the
existing society, that cursed society in which one may see a single man
spending, uselessly, enough to feed thousands of families; an infamous
society which permits a few individuals to monopolize all the social wealth,
while there are hundreds of thousands of unfortunates who have not even
the bread that is not refused to dogs, and while entire families are
committing suicide for want of the necessities of life.

"Ah, gentlemen, if the governing classes could go down among the
unfortunates! But no, they prefer to remain deaf to their appeals. It seems
that a fatality impels them, like the royalty of the eighteenth century, toward
the precipice which will engulf them, for woe be to those who remain deaf
to the cries of the starving, woe to those who, believing themselves of
superior essence, assume the right to exploit those beneath them! There
comes a time when the people no longer reason; they rise like a hurricane,
and pass away like a torrent. Then we see bleeding heads impaled on pikes.

"Among the exploited, gentlemen, there are two classes of individuals:
Those of one class, not realizing what they are and what they might be, take
life as it comes, believe that they are born to be slaves, and content
themselves with the little that is given them in exchange for their labor. But
there are others, on the contrary, who think, who study, and who, looking
about them, discover social iniquities. Is it their fault if they see clearly and
suffer at seeing others suffer? Then they throw themselves into the struggle,
and make themselves the bearers of the popular claims.

"Gentlemen, I am one of these last. Wherever I have gone, I have seen
unfortunates bent beneath the yoke of capital. Everywhere I have seen the
same wounds causing tears of blood to flow, even in the remoter parts of the
inhabited districts of South America, where I had the right to believe that he
who was weary of the pains of civilization might rest in the shade of the
palm trees and there study nature. Well, there even, more than elsewhere, I
have seen capital come, like a vampire, to suck the last drop of blood of the
unfortunate pariahs.

"Then I came back to France, where it was reserved for me to see my
family suffer atrociously. This was the last drop in the cup of my sorrow.

Tired of leading this life of suffering and cowardice, I carried this bomb to
those who are primarily responsible for social sufferings.

"I am reproached with the wounds of those who were hit by my
projectiles. Permit me to point out in passing that, if the bourgeois had not
massacred or caused massacres during the Revolution, it is probable that
they would still be under the yoke of the nobility. On the other hand, figure
up the dead and wounded on Tonquin, Madagascar, Dahomey, adding
thereto the thousands, yes, millions of unfortunates who die in the factories,
the mines, and wherever the grinding power of capital is felt. Add also those
who die of hunger, and all this with the assent of our Deputies. Beside all
this, of how little weight are the reproaches now brought against me!

"It is true that one does not efface the other; but, after all, are we not
acting on the defensive when we respond to the blows which we receive
from above? I know very well that I shall be told that I ought to have
confined myself to speech for the vindication of the people's claims. But
what can you expect! It takes a loud voice to make the deaf hear. Too long
have they answered our voices by imprisonment, the rope, rifle volleys.
Make no mistake; the explosion of my bomb is not only the cry of the rebel
Vaillant, but the cry of an entire class which vindicates its rights, and which
will soon add acts to words. For, be sure of it, in vain will they pass laws.
The ideas of the thinkers will not halt; just as, in the last century, all the
governmental forces could not prevent the Diderots and the Voltaires from
spreading emancipating ideas among the people, so all the existing
governmental forces will not prevent the Reclus, the Darwins, the Spencers,
the Ibsens, the Mirbeaus, from spreading the ideas of justice and liberty
which will annihilate the prejudices that hold the mass in ignorance. And
these ideas, welcomed by the unfortunate, will flower in acts of revolt as
they have done in me, until the day when the disappearance of authority
shall permit all men to organize freely according to their choice, when we
shall each be able to enjoy the product of his labor, and when those moral
maladies called prejudices shall vanish, permitting human beings to live in
harmony, having no other desire than to study the sciences and love their
fellows.

"I conclude, gentlemen, by saying that a society in which one sees such
social inequalities as we see all about us, in which we see every day
suicides caused by poverty, prostitution flaring at every street corner,—a
society whose principal monuments are barracks and prisons,—such a
society must be transformed as soon as possible, on pain of being
eliminated, and that speedily, from the human race. Hail to him who labors,
by no matter what means, for this transformation! It is this idea that has
guided me in my duel with authority, but as in this duel I have only
wounded my adversary, it is now its turn to strike me.

"Now, gentlemen, to me it matters little what penalty you may inflict,
for, looking at this assembly with the eyes of reason, I can not help smiling
to see you, atoms lost in matter, and reasoning only because you possess a
prolongation of the spinal marrow, assume the right to judge one of your
fellows.

"Ah! gentlemen, how little a thing is your assembly and your verdict in
the history of humanity; and human history, in its turn, is likewise a very
little thing in the whirlwind which bears it through immensity, and which is
destined to disappear, or at least to be transformed, in order to begin again
the same history and the same facts, a veritably perpetual play of cosmic
forces renewing and transferring themselves forever."

Will anyone say that Vaillant was an ignorant, vicious man, or a lunatic?
Was not his mind singularly clear, analytic? No wonder that the best
intellectual forces of France spoke in his behalf, and signed the petition to
President Carnot, asking him to commute Vaillant's death sentence.

Carnot would listen to no entreaty; he insisted on more than a pound of
flesh, he wanted Vaillant's life, and then—the inevitable happened:
President Carnot was killed. On the handle of the stiletto used by the
ATTENTATER was engraved, significantly,

VAILLANT!

Santa Caserio was an Anarchist. He could have gotten away, saved
himself; but he remained, he stood the consequences.

His reasons for the act are set forth in so simple, dignified, and childlike
manner that one is reminded of the touching tribute paid Caserio by his
teacher of the little village school, Ada Negri, the Italian poet, who spoke of
him as a sweet, tender plant, of too fine and sensitive texture to stand the
cruel strain of the world.

"Gentlemen of the Jury! I do not propose to make a defense, but only an
explanation of my deed.

"Since my early youth I began to learn that present society is badly
organized, so badly that every day many wretched men commit suicide,
leaving women and children in the most terrible distress. Workers, by
thousands, seek for work and can not find it. Poor families beg for food and
shiver with cold; they suffer the greatest misery; the little ones ask their
miserable mothers for food, and the mothers can not give them, because
they have nothing. The few things which the home contained have already
been sold or pawned. All they can do is beg alms; often they are arrested as
vagabonds.

"I went away from my native place because I was frequently moved to
tears at seeing little girls of eight or ten years obliged to work fifteen hours
a day for the paltry pay of twenty centimes. Young women of eighteen or
twenty also work fifteen hours daily, for a mockery of remuneration. And
that happens not only to my fellow countrymen, but to all the workers, who
sweat the whole day long for a crust of bread, while their labor produces
wealth in abundance. The workers are obliged to live under the most
wretched conditions, and their food consists of a little bread, a few
spoonfuls of rice, and water; so by the time they are thirty or forty years
old, they are exhausted, and go to die in the hospitals. Besides, in
consequence of bad food and overwork, these unhappy creatures are, by
hundreds, devoured by pellagra—a disease that, in my country, attacks, as
the physicians say, those who are badly fed and lead a life of toil and
privation.

"I have observed that there are a great many people who are hungry, and
many children who suffer, whilst bread and clothes abound in the towns. I
saw many and large shops full of clothing and woolen stuffs, and I also saw
warehouses full of wheat and Indian corn, suitable for those who are in
want. And, on the other hand, I saw thousands of people who do not work,
who produce nothing and live on the labor of others; who spend every day
thousands of francs for their amusement; who debauch the daughters of the
workers; who own dwellings of forty or fifty rooms; twenty or thirty horses,
many servants; in a word, all the pleasures of life.

"I believed in God; but when I saw so great an inequality between men, I
acknowledged that it was not God who created man, but man who created
God. And I discovered that those who want their property to be respected,
have an interest in preaching the existence of paradise and hell, and in
keeping the people in ignorance.

"Not long ago, Vaillant threw a bomb in the Chamber of Deputies, to
protest against the present system of society. He killed no one, only
wounded some persons; yet bourgeois justice sentenced him to death. And
not satisfied with the condemnation of the guilty man, they began to pursue
the Anarchists, and arrest not only those who had known Vaillant, but even
those who had merely been present at any Anarchist lecture.

"The government did not think of their wives and children. It did not
consider that the men kept in prison were not the only ones who suffered,
and that their little ones cried for bread. Bourgeois justice did not trouble
itself about these innocent ones, who do not yet know what society is. It is
no fault of theirs that their fathers are in prison; they only want to eat.

"The government went on searching private houses, opening private
letters, forbidding lectures and meetings, and practicing the most infamous
oppressions against us. Even now, hundreds of Anarchists are arrested for
having written an article in a newspaper, or for having expressed an opinion
in public.

"Gentlemen of the Jury, you are representatives of bourgeois society. If
you want my head, take it; but do not believe that in so doing you will stop
the Anarchist propaganda. Take care, for men reap what they have sown."

During a religious procession in 1896, at Barcelona, a bomb was thrown.
Immediately three hundred men and women were arrested. Some were
Anarchists, but the majority were trade unionists and Socialists. They were
thrown into that terrible bastille, Montjuich, and subjected to most horrible
tortures. After a number had been killed, or had gone insane, their cases
were taken up by the liberal press of Europe, resulting in the release of a
few survivors.

The man primarily responsible for this revival of the Inquisition was
Canovas del Castillo, Prime Minister of Spain. It was he who ordered the
torturing of the victims, their flesh burned, their bones crushed, their
tongues cut out. Practiced in the art of brutality during his regime in Cuba,
Canovas remained absolutely deaf to the appeals and protests of the
awakened civilized conscience.

In 1897 Canovas del Castillo was shot to death by a young Italian,
Angiolillo. The latter was an editor in his native land, and his bold
utterances soon attracted the attention of the authorities. Persecution began,
and Angiolillo fled from Italy to Spain, thence to France and Belgium,
finally settling in England. While there he found employment as a
compositor, and immediately became the friend of all his colleagues. One of
the latter thus described Angiolillo: "His appearance suggested the
journalist rather than the disciple of Guttenberg. His delicate hands,
moreover, betrayed the fact that he had not grown up at the 'case.' With his
handsome frank face, his soft dark hair, his alert expression, he looked the
very type of the vivacious Southerner. Angiolillo spoke Italian, Spanish, and
French, but no English; the little French I knew was not sufficient to carry
on a prolonged conversation. However, Angiolillo soon began to acquire the
English idiom; he learned rapidly, playfully, and it was not long until he
became very popular with his fellow compositors. His distinguished and yet
modest manner, and his consideration towards his colleagues, won him the
hearts of all the boys."

Angiolillo soon became familiar with the detailed accounts in the press.
He read of the great wave of human sympathy with the helpless victims at
Montjuich. On Trafalgar Square he saw with his own eyes the results of
those atrocities, when the few Spaniards, who escaped Castillo's clutches,

came to seek asylum in England. There, at the great meeting, these men
opened their shirts and showed the horrible scars of burned flesh. Angiolillo
saw, and the effect surpassed a thousand theories; the impetus was beyond
words, beyond arguments, beyond himself even.

Senor Antonio Canovas del Castillo, Prime Minister of Spain, sojourned
at Santa Agueda. As usual in such cases, all strangers were kept away from
his exalted presence. One exception was made, however, in the case of a
distinguished looking, elegantly dressed Italian—the representative, it was
understood, of an important journal. The distinguished gentleman was—
Angiolillo.

Senor Canovas, about to leave his house, stepped on the veranda.
Suddenly Angiolillo confronted him. A shot rang out, and Canovas was a
corpse.

The wife of the Prime Minister rushed upon the scene. "Murderer!
Murderer!" she cried, pointing at Angiolillo. The latter bowed. "Pardon,
Madame," he said, "I respect you as a lady, but I regret that you were the
wife of that man."

Calmly Angiolillo faced death. Death in its most terrible form—for the
man whose soul was as a child's.

He was garroted. His body lay, sun-kissed, till the day hid in twilight.
And the people came, and pointing the finger of terror and fear, they said:
"There—the criminal—the cruel murderer."

How stupid, how cruel is ignorance! It misunderstands always,
condemns always.

A remarkable parallel to the case of Angiolillo is to be found in the act of
Gaetano Bresci, whose ATTENTAT upon King Umberto made an American
city famous.

Bresci came to this country, this land of opportunity, where one has but
to try to meet with golden success. Yes, he too would try to succeed. He

would work hard and faithfully. Work had no terrors for him, if it would
only help him to independence, manhood, self-respect.

Thus full of hope and enthusiasm he settled in Paterson, New Jersey, and
there found a lucrative job at six dollars per week in one of the weaving
mills of the town. Six whole dollars per week was, no doubt, a fortune for
Italy, but not enough to breathe on in the new country. He loved his little
home. He was a good husband and devoted father to his BAMBINA,
Bianca, whom he adored. He worked and worked for a number of years. He
actually managed to save one hundred dollars out of his six dollars per
week.

Bresci had an ideal. Foolish, I know, for a workingman to have an ideal,
—the Anarchist paper published in Paterson, LA QUESTIONE SOCIALE.

Every week, though tired from work, he would help to set up the paper.
Until later hours he would assist, and when the little pioneer had exhausted
all resources and his comrades were in despair, Bresci brought cheer and
hope, one hundred dollars, the entire savings of years. That would keep the
paper afloat.

In his native land people were starving. The crops had been poor, and the
peasants saw themselves face to face with famine. They appealed to their
good King Umberto; he would help. And he did. The wives of the peasants
who had gone to the palace of the King, held up in mute silence their
emaciated infants. Surely that would move him. And then the soldiers fired
and killed those poor fools.

Bresci, at work in the weaving mill at Paterson, read of the horrible
massacre. His mental eye beheld the defenceless women and innocent
infants of his native land, slaughtered right before the good King. His soul
recoiled in horror. At night he heard the groans of the wounded. Some may
have been his comrades, his own flesh. Why, why these foul murders?

The little meeting of the Italian Anarchist group in Paterson ended
almost in a fight. Bresci had demanded his hundred dollars. His comrades
begged, implored him to give them a respite. The paper would go down if
they were to return him his loan. But Bresci insisted on its return.

How cruel and stupid is ignorance. Bresci got the money, but lost the
good will, the confidence of his comrades. They would have nothing more
to do with one whose greed was greater than his ideals.

On the twenty-ninth of July, 1900, King Umberto was shot at Monzo.
The young Italian weaver of Paterson, Gaetano Bresci, had taken the life of
the good King.

Paterson was placed under police surveillance, everyone known as an
Anarchist hounded and persecuted, and the act of Bresci ascribed to the
teachings of Anarchism. As if the teachings of Anarchism in its extremest
form could equal the force of those slain women and infants, who had
pilgrimed to the King for aid. As if any spoken word, ever so eloquent,
could burn into a human soul with such white heat as the life blood trickling
drop by drop from those dying forms. The ordinary man is rarely moved
either by word or deed; and those whose social kinship is the greatest living
force need no appeal to respond—even as does steel to the magnet—to the
wrongs and horrors of society.

If a social theory is a strong factor inducing acts of political violence,
how are we to account for the recent violent outbreaks in India, where
Anarchism has hardly been born. More than any other old philosophy,
Hindu teachings have exalted passive resistance, the drifting of life, the
Nirvana, as the highest spiritual ideal. Yet the social unrest in India is daily
growing, and has only recently resulted in an act of political violence, the
killing of Sir Curzon Wyllie by the Hindu, Madar Sol Dhingra.

If such a phenomenon can occur in a country socially and individually
permeated for centuries with the spirit of passivity, can one question the
tremendous, revolutionizing effect on human character exerted by great
social iniquities? Can one doubt the logic, the justice of these words:

"Repression, tyranny, and indiscriminate punishment of innocent men
have been the watchwords of the government of the alien domination in
India ever since we began the commercial boycott of English goods. The
tiger qualities of the British are much in evidence now in India. They think
that by the strength of the sword they will keep down India! It is this
arrogance that has brought about the bomb, and the more they tyrannize

over a helpless and unarmed people, the more terrorism will grow. We may
deprecate terrorism as outlandish and foreign to our culture, but it is
inevitable as long as this tyranny continues, for it is not the terrorists that
are to be blamed, but the tyrants who are responsible for it. It is the only
resource for a helpless and unarmed people when brought to the verge of
despair. It is never criminal on their part. The crime lies with the tyrant."[4]

Even conservative scientists are beginning to realize that heredity is not
the sole factor moulding human character. Climate, food, occupation; nay,
color, light, and sound must be considered in the study of human
psychology.

If that be true, how much more correct is the contention that great social
abuses will and must influence different minds and temperaments in a
different way. And how utterly fallacious the stereotyped notion that the
teachings of Anarchism, or certain exponents of these teachings, are
responsible for the acts of political violence.

Anarchism, more than any other social theory, values human life above
things. All Anarchists agree with Tolstoy in this fundamental truth: if the
production of any commodity necessitates the sacrifice of human life,
society should do without that commodity, but it can not do without that
life. That, however, nowise indicates that Anarchism teaches submission.
How can it, when it knows that all suffering, all misery, all ills, result from
the evil of submission?

Has not some American ancestor said, many years ago, that resistance to
tyranny is obedience to God? And he was not an Anarchist even. I would
say that resistance to tyranny is man's highest ideal. So long as tyranny
exists, in whatever form, man's deepest aspiration must resist it as
inevitably as man must breathe.

Compared with the wholesale violence of capital and government,
political acts of violence are but a drop in the ocean. That so few resist is
the strongest proof how terrible must be the conflict between their souls and
unbearable social iniquities.

High strung, like a violin string, they weep and moan for life, so
relentless, so cruel, so terribly inhuman. In a desperate moment the string
breaks. Untuned ears hear nothing but discord. But those who feel the
agonized cry understand its harmony; they hear in it the fulfillment of the
most compelling moment of human nature.

Such is the psychology of political violence.

[1] A revolutionist committing an act of political violence.

[2] PARIS AND THE SOCIAL REVOLUTION.

[3] From a pamphlet issued by the Freedom Group of London.

[4] THE FREE HINDUSTAN.

PRISONS: A SOCIAL CRIME AND FAILURE

In 1849, Feodor Dostoyevsky wrote on the wall of his prison cell the
following story of THE PRIEST AND THE DEVIL:

"'Hello, you little fat father!' the devil said to the priest. 'What made you
lie so to those poor, misled people? What tortures of hell did you depict?
Don't you know they are already suffering the tortures of hell in their
earthly lives? Don't you know that you and the authorities of the State are
my representatives on earth? It is you that make them suffer the pains of
hell with which you threaten them. Don't you know this? Well, then, come
with me!'

"The devil grabbed the priest by the collar, lifted him high in the air, and
carried him to a factory, to an iron foundry. He saw the workmen there
running and hurrying to and fro, and toiling in the scorching heat. Very soon

the thick, heavy air and the heat are too much for the priest. With tears in
his eyes, he pleads with the devil: 'Let me go! Let me leave this hell!'

"'Oh, my dear friend, I must show you many more places.' The devil gets
hold of him again and drags him off to a farm. There he sees workmen
threshing the grain. The dust and heat are insufferable. The overseer carries
a knout, and unmercifully beats anyone who falls to the ground overcome
by hard toil or hunger.

"Next the priest is taken to the huts where these same workers live with
their families—dirty, cold, smoky, ill-smelling holes. The devil grins. He
points out the poverty and hardships which are at home here.

"'Well, isn't this enough?' he asks. And it seems as if even he, the devil,
pities the people. The pious servant of God can hardly bear it. With uplifted
hands he begs: 'Let me go away from here. Yes, yes! This is hell on earth!'

"'Well, then, you see. And you still promise them another hell. You
torment them, torture them to death mentally when they are already all but
dead physically! Come on! I will show you one more hell—one more, the
very worst.'

"He took him to a prison and showed him a dungeon, with its foul air
and the many human forms, robbed of all health and energy, lying on the
floor, covered with vermin that were devouring their poor, naked, emaciated
bodies.

"'Take off your silken clothes,' said the devil to the priest, 'put on your
ankles heavy chains such as these unfortunates wear; lie down on the cold
and filthy floor—and then talk to them about a hell that still awaits them!'

"'No, no!' answered the priest, 'I cannot think of anything more dreadful
than this. I entreat you, let me go away from here!'

"'Yes, this is hell. There can be no worse hell than this. Did you not
know it? Did you not know that these men and women whom you are
frightening with the picture of a hell hereafter—did you not know that they
are in hell right here, before they die?'"

This was written fifty years ago in dark Russia, on the wall of one of the
most horrible prisons. Yet who can deny that the same applies with equal
force to the present time, even to American prisons?

With all our boasted reforms, our great social changes, and our far-
reaching discoveries, human beings continue to be sent to the worst of hells,
wherein they are outraged, degraded, and tortured, that society may be
"protected" from the phantoms of its own making.

Prison, a social protection? What monstrous mind ever conceived such
an idea? Just as well say that health can be promoted by a widespread
contagion.

After eighteen months of horror in an English prison, Oscar Wilde gave
to the world his great masterpiece, THE BALLAD OF READING GOAL:
The vilest deeds, like poison weeds,
Bloom well in prison air;
It is only what is good in Man
That wastes and withers there.
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
And the Warder is Despair.

Society goes on perpetuating this poisonous air, not realizing that out of
it can come naught but the most poisonous results.

We are spending at the present $3,500,000 per day, $1,000,095,000 per
year, to maintain prison institutions, and that in a democratic country,—a
sum almost as large as the combined output of wheat, valued at
$750,000,000, and the output of coal, valued at $350,000,000. Professor
Bushnell of Washington, D.C., estimates the cost of prisons at
$6,000,000,000 annually, and Dr. G. Frank Lydston, an eminent American
writer on crime, gives $5,000,000,000 annually as a reasonable figure. Such
unheard-of expenditure for the purpose of maintaining vast armies of
human beings caged up like wild beasts![1]

Yet crimes are on the increase. Thus we learn that in America there are
four and a half times as many crimes to every million population today as

there were twenty years ago.

The most horrible aspect is that our national crime is murder, not
robbery, embezzlement, or rape, as in the South. London is five times as
large as Chicago, yet there are one hundred and eighteen murders annually
in the latter city, while only twenty in London. Nor is Chicago the leading
city in crime, since it is only seventh on the list, which is headed by four
Southern cities, and San Francisco and Los Angeles. In view of such a
terrible condition of affairs, it seems ridiculous to prate of the protection
society derives from its prisons.

The average mind is slow in grasping a truth, but when the most
thoroughly organized, centralized institution, maintained at an excessive
national expense, has proven a complete social failure, the dullest must
begin to question its right to exist. The time is past when we can be content
with our social fabric merely because it is "ordained by divine right," or by
the majesty of the law.

The widespread prison investigations, agitation, and education during
the last few years are conclusive proof that men are learning to dig deep
into the very bottom of society, down to the causes of the terrible
discrepancy between social and individual life.

Why, then, are prisons a social crime and a failure? To answer this vital
question it behooves us to seek the nature and cause of crimes, the methods
employed in coping with them, and the effects these methods produce in
ridding society of the curse and horror of crimes.

First, as to the NATURE of crime:

Havelock Ellis divides crime into four phases, the political, the
passional, the insane, and the occasional. He says that the political criminal
is the victim of an attempt of a more or less despotic government to
preserve its own stability. He is not necessarily guilty of an unsocial
offense; he simply tries to overturn a certain political order which may itself
be anti-social. This truth is recognized all over the world, except in America
where the foolish notion still prevails that in a Democracy there is no place
for political criminals. Yet John Brown was a political criminal; so were the

Chicago Anarchists; so is every striker. Consequently, says Havelock Ellis,
the political criminal of our time or place may be the hero, martyr, saint of
another age. Lombroso calls the political criminal the true precursor of the
progressive movement of humanity.

"The criminal by passion is usually a man of wholesome birth and
honest life, who under the stress of some great, unmerited wrong has
wrought justice for himself."[2]

Mr. Hugh C. Weir, in THE MENACE OF THE POLICE, cites the case
of Jim Flaherty, a criminal by passion, who, instead of being saved by
society, is turned into a drunkard and a recidivist, with a ruined and
poverty-stricken family as the result.

A more pathetic type is Archie, the victim in Brand Whitlock's novel,
THE TURN OF THE BALANCE, the greatest American expose of crime in
the making. Archie, even more than Flaherty, was driven to crime and death
by the cruel inhumanity of his surroundings, and by the unscrupulous
hounding of the machinery of the law. Archie and Flaherty are but the types
of many thousands, demonstrating how the legal aspects of crime, and the
methods of dealing with it, help to create the disease which is undermining
our entire social life.

"The insane criminal really can no more be considered a criminal than a
child, since he is mentally in the same condition as an infant or an animal."
[3]

The law already recognizes that, but only in rare cases of a very flagrant
nature, or when the culprit's wealth permits the luxury of criminal insanity.
It has become quite fashionable to be the victim of paranoia. But on the
whole the "sovereignty of justice" still continues to punish criminally insane
with the whole severity of its power. Thus Mr. Ellis quotes from Dr.
Richter's statistics showing that in Germany, one hundred and six madmen,
out of one hundred and forty-four criminal insane, were condemned to
severe punishment.

The occasional criminal "represents by far the largest class of our prison
population, hence is the greatest menace to social well-being." What is the

cause that compels a vast army of the human family to take to crime, to
prefer the hideous life within prison walls to the life outside? Certainly that
cause must be an iron master, who leaves its victims no avenue of escape,
for the most depraved human being loves liberty.

This terrific force is conditioned in our cruel social and economic
arrangement. I do not mean to deny the biologic, physiologic, or
psychologic factors in creating crime; but there is hardly an advanced
criminologist who will not concede that the social and economic influences
are the most relentless, the most poisonous germs of crime. Granted even
that there are innate criminal tendencies, it is none the less true that these
tendencies find rich nutrition in our social environment.

There is close relation, says Havelock Ellis, between crimes against the
person and the price of alcohol, between crimes against property and the
price of wheat. He quotes Quetelet and Lacassagne, the former looking
upon society as the preparer of crime, and the criminals as instruments that
execute them. The latter find that "the social environment is the cultivation
medium of criminality; that the criminal is the microbe, an element which
only becomes important when it finds the medium which causes it to
ferment; EVERY SOCIETY HAS THE CRIMINALS IT DESERVES."[4]

The most "prosperous" industrial period makes it impossible for the
worker to earn enough to keep up health and vigor. And as prosperity is, at
best, an imaginary condition, thousands of people are constantly added to
the host of the unemployed. From East to West, from South to North, this
vast army tramps in search of work or food, and all they find is the
workhouse or the slums. Those who have a spark of self-respect left, prefer
open defiance, prefer crime to the emaciated, degraded position of poverty.

Edward Carpenter estimates that five-sixths of indictable crimes consist
in some violation of property rights; but that is too low a figure. A thorough
investigation would prove that nine crimes out of ten could be traced,
directly or indirectly, to our economic and social iniquities, to our system of
remorseless exploitation and robbery. There is no criminal so stupid but
recognizes this terrible fact, though he may not be able to account for it.

A collection of criminal philosophy, which Havelock Ellis, Lombroso,
and other eminent men have compiled, shows that the criminal feels only
too keenly that it is society that drives him to crime. A Milanese thief said
to Lombroso: "I do not rob, I merely take from the rich their superfluities;
besides, do not advocates and merchants rob?" A murderer wrote:
"Knowing that three-fourths of the social virtues are cowardly vices, I
thought an open assault on a rich man would be less ignoble than the
cautious combination of fraud." Another wrote: "I am imprisoned for
stealing a half dozen eggs. Ministers who rob millions are honored. Poor
Italy!" An educated convict said to Mr. Davitt: "The laws of society are
framed for the purpose of securing the wealth of the world to power and
calculation, thereby depriving the larger portion of mankind of its rights and
chances. Why should they punish me for taking by somewhat similar means
from those who have taken more than they had a right to?" The same man
added: "Religion robs the soul of its independence; patriotism is the stupid
worship of the world for which the well-being and the peace of the
inhabitants were sacrificed by those who profit by it, while the laws of the
land, in restraining natural desires, were waging war on the manifest spirit
of the law of our beings. Compared with this," he concluded, "thieving is an
honorable pursuit."[5]

Verily, there is greater truth in this philosophy than in all the law-and-
moral books of society.

The economic, political, moral, and physical factors being the microbes
of crime, how does society meet the situation?

The methods of coping with crime have no doubt undergone several
changes, but mainly in a theoretic sense. In practice, society has retained the
primitive motive in dealing with the offender; that is, revenge. It has also
adopted the theologic idea; namely, punishment; while the legal and
"civilized" methods consist of deterrence or terror, and reform. We shall
presently see that all four modes have failed utterly, and that we are today
no nearer a solution than in the dark ages.

The natural impulse of the primitive man to strike back, to avenge a
wrong, is out of date. Instead, the civilized man, stripped of courage and
daring, has delegated to an organized machinery the duty of avenging his
wrongs, in the foolish belief that the State is justified in doing what he no
longer has the manhood or consistency to do. The majesty-of-the-law is a
reasoning thing; it would not stoop to primitive instincts. Its mission is of a
"higher" nature. True, it is still steeped in the theologic muddle, which
proclaims punishment as a means of purification, or the vicarious
atonement of sin. But legally and socially the statute exercises punishment,
not merely as an infliction of pain upon the offender, but also for its
terrifying effect upon others.

What is the real basis of punishment, however? The notion of a free will,
the idea that man is at all times a free agent for good or evil; if he chooses
the latter, he must be made to pay the price. Although this theory has long
been exploded, and thrown upon the dustheap, it continues to be applied
daily by the entire machinery of government, turning it into the most cruel
and brutal tormentor of human life. The only reason for its continuance is
the still more cruel notion that the greater the terror punishment spreads, the
more certain its preventative effect.

Society is using the most drastic methods in dealing with the social
offender. Why do they not deter? Although in America a man is supposed to
be considered innocent until proven guilty, the instruments of law, the
police, carry on a reign of terror, making indiscriminate arrests, beating,
clubbing, bullying people, using the barbarous method of the "third degree,"
subjecting their unfortunate victims to the foul air of the station house, and
the still fouler language of its guardians. Yet crimes are rapidly multiplying,
and society is paying the price. On the other hand, it is an open secret that
when the unfortunate citizen has been given the full "mercy" of the law, and
for the sake of safety is hidden in the worst of hells, his real Calvary begins.
Robbed of his rights as a human being, degraded to a mere automaton
without will or feeling, dependent entirely upon the mercy of brutal
keepers, he daily goes through a process of dehumanization, compared with
which savage revenge was mere child's play.

There is not a single penal institution or reformatory in the United States
where men are not tortured "to be made good," by means of the blackjack,
the club, the straightjacket, the water-cure, the "humming bird" (an
electrical contrivance run along the human body), the solitary, the bullring,
and starvation diet. In these institutions his will is broken, his soul
degraded, his spirit subdued by the deadly monotony and routine of prison
life. In Ohio, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Missouri, and in the South, these
horrors have become so flagrant as to reach the outside world, while in
most other prisons the same Christian methods still prevail. But prison
walls rarely allow the agonized shrieks of the victims to escape—prison
walls are thick, they dull the sound. Society might with greater immunity
abolish all prisons at once, than to hope for protection from these twentieth
century chambers of horrors.

Year after year the gates of prison hells return to the world an emaciated,
deformed, willless, ship-wrecked crew of humanity, with the Cain mark on
their foreheads, their hopes crushed, all their natural inclinations thwarted.
With nothing but hunger and inhumanity to greet them, these victims soon
sink back into crime as the only possibility of existence. It is not at all an
unusual thing to find men and women who have spent half their lives—nay,
almost their entire existence—in prison. I know a woman on Blackwell's
Island, who had been in and out thirty-eight times; and through a friend I
learn that a young boy of seventeen, whom he had nursed and cared for in
the Pittsburg penitentiary, had never known the meaning of liberty. From
the reformatory to the penitentiary had been the path of this boy's life, until,
broken in body, he died a victim of social revenge. These personal
experiences are substantiated by extensive data giving overwhelming proof
of the utter futility of prisons as a means of deterrence or reform.

Well-meaning persons are now working for a new departure in the prison
question,—reclamation, to restore once more to the prisoner the possibility
of becoming a human being. Commendable as this is, I fear it is impossible
to hope for good results from pouring good wine into a musty bottle.
Nothing short of a complete reconstruction of society will deliver mankind
from the cancer of crime. Still, if the dull edge of our social conscience
would be sharpened, the penal institutions might be given a new coat of
varnish. But the first step to be taken is the renovation of the social

consciousness, which is in a rather dilapidated condition. It is sadly in need
to be awakened to the fact that crime is a question of degree, that we all
have the rudiments of crime in us, more or less, according to our mental,
physical, and social environment; and that the individual criminal is merely
a reflex of the tendencies of the aggregate.

With the social consciousness awakened, the average individual may
learn to refuse the "honor" of being the bloodhound of the law. He may
cease to persecute, despise, and mistrust the social offender, and give him a
chance to live and breathe among his fellows. Institutions are, of course,
harder to reach. They are cold, impenetrable, and cruel; still, with the social
consciousness quickened, it might be possible to free the prison victims
from the brutality of prison officials, guards, and keepers. Public opinion is
a powerful weapon; keepers of human prey, even, are afraid of it. They may
be taught a little humanity, especially if they realize that their jobs depend
upon it.

But the most important step is to demand for the prisoner the right to
work while in prison, with some monetary recompense that would enable
him to lay aside a little for the day of his release, the beginning of a new
life.

It is almost ridiculous to hope much from present society when we
consider that workingmen, wage slaves themselves, object to convict labor.
I shall not go into the cruelty of this objection, but merely consider the
impracticability of it. To begin with, the opposition so far raised by
organized labor has been directed against windmills. Prisoners have always
worked; only the State has been their exploiter, even as the individual
employer has been the robber of organized labor. The States have either set
the convicts to work for the government, or they have farmed convict labor
to private individuals. Twenty-nine of the States pursue the latter plan. The
Federal government and seventeen States have discarded it, as have the
leading nations of Europe, since it leads to hideous overworking and abuse
of prisoners, and to endless graft.

Rhode Island, the State dominated by Aldrich, offers perhaps the worst
example. Under a five-year contract, dated July 7th, 1906, and renewable
for five years more at the option of private contractors, the labor of the
inmates of the Rhode Island Penitentiary and the Providence County Jail is
sold to the Reliance-Sterling Mfg. Co. at the rate of a trifle less than 25
cents a day per man. This Company is really a gigantic Prison Labor Trust,
for it also leases the convict labor of Connecticut, Michigan, Indiana,
Nebraska, and South Dakota penitentiaries, and the reformatories of New
Jersey, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin, eleven establishments in all.

The enormity of the graft under the Rhode Island contract may be
estimated from the fact that this same Company pays 62 1/2 cents a day in
Nebraska for the convict's labor, and that Tennessee, for example, gets
$1.10 a day for a convict's work from the Gray-Dudley Hardware Co.;
Missouri gets 70 cents a day from the Star Overall Mfg. Co.; West Virginia
65 cents a day from the Kraft Mfg. Co., and Maryland 55 cents a day from
Oppenheim, Oberndorf & Co., shirt manufacturers. The very difference in
prices points to enormous graft. For example, the Reliance-Sterling Mfg.
Co. manufactures shirts, the cost of free labor being not less than $1.20 per
dozen, while it pays Rhode Island thirty cents a dozen. Furthermore, the
State charges this Trust no rent for the use of its huge factory, charges
nothing for power, heat, light, or even drainage, and exacts no taxes. What
graft!

It is estimated that more than twelve million dollars' worth of
workingmen's shirts and overalls is produced annually in this country by
prison labor. It is a woman's industry, and the first reflection that arises is
that an immense amount of free female labor is thus displaced. The second
consideration is that male convicts, who should be learning trades that
would give them some chance of being self-supporting after their release,
are kept at this work at which they can not possibly make a dollar. This is
the more serious when we consider that much of this labor is done in
reformatories, which so loudly profess to be training their inmates to
become useful citizens.

The third, and most important, consideration is that the enormous profits
thus wrung from convict labor are a constant incentive to the contractors to

exact from their unhappy victims tasks altogether beyond their strength, and
to punish them cruelly when their work does not come up to the excessive
demands made.

Another word on the condemnation of convicts to tasks at which they
cannot hope to make a living after release. Indiana, for example, is a State
that has made a great splurge over being in the front rank of modern
penological improvements. Yet, according to the report rendered in 1908 by
the training school of its "reformatory," 135 were engaged in the
manufacture of chains, 207 in that of shirts, and 255 in the foundry—a total
of 597 in three occupations. But at this so-called reformatory 59
occupations were represented by the inmates, 39 of which were connected
with country pursuits. Indiana, like other States, professes to be training the
inmates of her reformatory to occupations by which they will be able to
make their living when released. She actually sets them to work making
chains, shirts, and brooms, the latter for the benefit of the Louisville Fancy
Grocery Co. Broom making is a trade largely monopolized by the blind,
shirt making is done by women, and there is only one free chain factory in
the State, and at that a released convict can not hope to get employment.
The whole thing is a cruel farce.

If, then, the States can be instrumental in robbing their helpless victims
of such tremendous profits, is it not high time for organized labor to stop its
idle howl, and to insist on decent remuneration for the convict, even as
labor organizations claim for themselves? In that way workingmen would
kill the germ which makes of the prisoner an enemy to the interests of labor.
I have said elsewhere that thousands of convicts, incompetent and without a
trade, without means of subsistence, are yearly turned back into the social
fold. These men and women must live, for even an ex-convict has needs.
Prison life has made them anti-social beings, and the rigidly closed doors
that meet them on their release are not likely to decrease their bitterness.
The inevitable result is that they form a favorable nucleus out of which
scabs, blacklegs, detectives, and policemen are drawn, only too willing to
do the master's bidding. Thus organized labor, by its foolish opposition to
work in prison, defeats its own ends. It helps to create poisonous fumes that
stifle every attempt for economic betterment. If the workingman wants to
avoid these effects, he should INSIST on the right of the convict to work, he

should meet him as a brother, take him into his organization, and WITH
HIS AID TURN AGAINST THE SYSTEM WHICH GRINDS THEM
BOTH.

Last, but not least, is the growing realization of the barbarity and the
inadequacy of the definite sentence. Those who believe in, and earnestly
aim at, a change are fast coming to the conclusion that man must be given
an opportunity to make good. And how is he to do it with ten, fifteen, or
twenty years' imprisonment before him? The hope of liberty and of
opportunity is the only incentive to life, especially the prisoner's life.
Society has sinned so long against him—it ought at least to leave him that. I
am not very sanguine that it will, or that any real change in that direction
can take place until the conditions that breed both the prisoner and the jailer
will be forever abolished.
Out of his mouth a red, red rose!
Out of his heart a white!
For who can say by what strange way
Christ brings his will to light,
Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore
Bloomed in the great Pope's sight.

[1] CRIME AND CRIMINALS. W. C. Owen.

[2] THE CRIMINAL, Havelock Ellis.

[3] THE CRIMINAL.

[4] THE CRIMINAL.

[5] THE CRIMINAL.

PATRIOTISM: A MENACE TO LIBERTY

What is patriotism? Is it love of one's birthplace, the place of childhood's
recollections and hopes, dreams and aspirations? Is it the place where, in
childlike naivety, we would watch the fleeting clouds, and wonder why we,
too, could not run so swiftly? The place where we would count the milliard
glittering stars, terror-stricken lest each one "an eye should be," piercing the
very depths of our little souls? Is it the place where we would listen to the
music of the birds, and long to have wings to fly, even as they, to distant
lands? Or the place where we would sit at mother's knee, enraptured by
wonderful tales of great deeds and conquests? In short, is it love for the
spot, every inch representing dear and precious recollections of a happy,
joyous, and playful childhood?

If that were patriotism, few American men of today could be called upon
to be patriotic, since the place of play has been turned into factory, mill, and
mine, while deafening sounds of machinery have replaced the music of the
birds. Nor can we longer hear the tales of great deeds, for the stories our
mothers tell today are but those of sorrow, tears, and grief.

What, then, is patriotism? "Patriotism, sir, is the last resort of
scoundrels," said Dr. Johnson. Leo Tolstoy, the greatest anti-patriot of our
times, defines patriotism as the principle that will justify the training of
wholesale murderers; a trade that requires better equipment for the exercise
of man-killing than the making of such necessities of life as shoes, clothing,
and houses; a trade that guarantees better returns and greater glory than that
of the average workingman.

Gustave Herve, another great anti-patriot, justly calls patriotism a
superstition—one far more injurious, brutal, and inhumane than religion.
The superstition of religion originated in man's inability to explain natural
phenomena. That is, when primitive man heard thunder or saw the
lightning, he could not account for either, and therefore concluded that back
of them must be a force greater than himself. Similarly he saw a
supernatural force in the rain, and in the various other changes in nature.
Patriotism, on the other hand, is a superstition artificially created and
maintained through a network of lies and falsehoods; a superstition that
robs man of his self-respect and dignity, and increases his arrogance and
conceit.

Indeed, conceit, arrogance, and egotism are the essentials of patriotism.
Let me illustrate. Patriotism assumes that our globe is divided into little
spots, each one surrounded by an iron gate. Those who have had the fortune
of being born on some particular spot, consider themselves better, nobler,
grander, more intelligent than the living beings inhabiting any other spot. It
is, therefore, the duty of everyone living on that chosen spot to fight, kill,
and die in the attempt to impose his superiority upon all the others.

The inhabitants of the other spots reason in like manner, of course, with
the result that, from early infancy, the mind of the child is poisoned with
blood-curdling stories about the Germans, the French, the Italians,
Russians, etc. When the child has reached manhood, he is thoroughly
saturated with the belief that he is chosen by the Lord himself to defend
HIS country against the attack or invasion of any foreigner. It is for that
purpose that we are clamoring for a greater army and navy, more battleships
and ammunition. It is for that purpose that America has within a short time
spent four hundred million dollars. Just think of it—four hundred million
dollars taken from the produce of the PEOPLE. For surely it is not the rich
who contribute to patriotism. They are cosmopolitans, perfectly at home in
every land. We in America know well the truth of this. Are not our rich
Americans Frenchmen in France, Germans in Germany, or Englishmen in
England? And do they not squander with cosmopolitan grace fortunes
coined by American factory children and cotton slaves? Yes, theirs is the
patriotism that will make it possible to send messages of condolence to a
despot like the Russian Tsar, when any mishap befalls him, as President
Roosevelt did in the name of HIS people, when Sergius was punished by
the Russian revolutionists.

It is a patriotism that will assist the arch-murderer, Diaz, in destroying
thousands of lives in Mexico, or that will even aid in arresting Mexican
revolutionists on American soil and keep them incarcerated in American
prisons, without the slightest cause or reason.

But, then, patriotism is not for those who represent wealth and power. It
is good enough for the people. It reminds one of the historic wisdom of
Frederic the Great, the bosom friend of Voltaire, who said: "Religion is a
fraud, but it must be maintained for the masses."

That patriotism is rather a costly institution, no one will doubt after
considering the following statistics. The progressive increase of the
expenditures for the leading armies and navies of the world during the last
quarter of a century is a fact of such gravity as to startle every thoughtful
student of economic problems. It may be briefly indicated by dividing the
time from 1881 to 1905 into five-year periods, and noting the
disbursements of several great nations for army and navy purposes during
the first and last of those periods. From the first to the last of the periods
noted the expenditures of Great Britain increased from $2,101,848,936 to
$4,143,226,885, those of France from $3,324,500,000 to $3,455,109,900,
those of Germany from $725,000,200 to $2,700,375,600, those of the
United States from $1,275,500,750 to $2,650,900,450, those of Russia from
$1,900,975,500 to $5,250,445,100, those of Italy from $1,600,975,750 to
$1,755,500,100, and those of Japan from $182,900,500 to $700,925,475.

The military expenditures of each of the nations mentioned increased in
each of the five-year periods under review. During the entire interval from
1881 to 1905 Great Britain's outlay for her army increased fourfold, that of
the United States was tripled, Russia's was doubled, that of Germany
increased 35 per cent., that of France about 15 per cent., and that of Japan
nearly 500 per cent. If we compare the expenditures of these nations upon
their armies with their total expenditures for all the twenty-five years
ending with 1905, the proportion rose as follows:

In Great Britain from 20 per cent. to 37; in the United States from 15 to
23; in France from 16 to 18; in Italy from 12 to 15; in Japan from 12 to 14.
On the other hand, it is interesting to note that the proportion in Germany
decreased from about 58 per cent. to 25, the decrease being due to the
enormous increase in the imperial expenditures for other purposes, the fact
being that the army expenditures for the period of 1901-5 were higher than
for any five-year period preceding. Statistics show that the countries in
which army expenditures are greatest, in proportion to the total national
revenues, are Great Britain, the United States, Japan, France, and Italy, in
the order named.

The showing as to the cost of great navies is equally impressive. During
the twenty-five years ending with 1905 naval expenditures increased

approximately as follows: Great Britain, 300 per cent.; France 60 per cent.;
Germany 600 per cent.; the United States 525 per cent.; Russia 300 per
cent.; Italy 250 per cent.; and Japan, 700 per cent. With the exception of
Great Britain, the United States spends more for naval purposes than any
other nation, and this expenditure bears also a larger proportion to the entire
national disbursements than that of any other power. In the period 1881-5,
the expenditure for the United States navy was $6.20 out of each $100
appropriated for all national purposes; the amount rose to $6.60 for the next
five-year period, to $8.10 for the next, to $11.70 for the next, and to $16.40
for 1901-5. It is morally certain that the outlay for the current period of five
years will show a still further increase.

The rising cost of militarism may be still further illustrated by computing
it as a per capita tax on population. From the first to the last of the five-year
periods taken as the basis for the comparisons here given, it has risen as
follows: In Great Britain, from $18.47 to $52.50; in France, from $19.66 to
$23.62; in Germany, from $10.17 to $15.51; in the United States, from
$5.62 to $13.64; in Russia, from $6.14 to $8.37; in Italy, from $9.59 to
$11.24, and in Japan from 86 cents to $3.11.

It is in connection with this rough estimate of cost per capita that the
economic burden of militarism is most appreciable. The irresistible
conclusion from available data is that the increase of expenditure for army
and navy purposes is rapidly surpassing the growth of population in each of
the countries considered in the present calculation. In other words, a
continuation of the increased demands of militarism threatens each of those
nations with a progressive exhaustion both of men and resources.

The awful waste that patriotism necessitates ought to be sufficient to
cure the man of even average intelligence from this disease. Yet patriotism
demands still more. The people are urged to be patriotic and for that luxury
they pay, not only by supporting their "defenders," but even by sacrificing
their own children. Patriotism requires allegiance to the flag, which means
obedience and readiness to kill father, mother, brother, sister.

The usual contention is that we need a standing army to protect the
country from foreign invasion. Every intelligent man and woman knows,
however, that this is a myth maintained to frighten and coerce the foolish.

The governments of the world, knowing each other's interests, do not
invade each other. They have learned that they can gain much more by
international arbitration of disputes than by war and conquest. Indeed, as
Carlyle said, "War is a quarrel between two thieves too cowardly to fight
their own battle; therefore they take boys from one village and another
village; stick them into uniforms, equip them with guns, and let them loose
like wild beasts against each other."

It does not require much wisdom to trace every war back to a similar
cause. Let us take our own Spanish-American war, supposedly a great and
patriotic event in the history of the United States. How our hearts burned
with indignation against the atrocious Spaniards! True, our indignation did
not flare up spontaneously. It was nurtured by months of newspaper
agitation, and long after Butcher Weyler had killed off many noble Cubans
and outraged many Cuban women. Still, in justice to the American Nation
be it said, it did grow indignant and was willing to fight, and that it fought
bravely. But when the smoke was over, the dead buried, and the cost of the
war came back to the people in an increase in the price of commodities and
rent—that is, when we sobered up from our patriotic spree—it suddenly
dawned on us that the cause of the Spanish-American war was the
consideration of the price of sugar; or, to be more explicit, that the lives,
blood, and money of the American people were used to protect the interests
of American capitalists, which were threatened by the Spanish government.
That this is not an exaggeration, but is based on absolute facts and figures,
is best proven by the attitude of the American government to Cuban labor.
When Cuba was firmly in the clutches of the United States, the very
soldiers sent to liberate Cuba were ordered to shoot Cuban workingmen
during the great cigarmakers' strike, which took place shortly after the war.

Nor do we stand alone in waging war for such causes. The curtain is
beginning to be lifted on the motives of the terrible Russo-Japanese war,
which cost so much blood and tears. And we see again that back of the
fierce Moloch of war stands the still fiercer god of Commercialism.
Kuropatkin, the Russian Minister of War during the Russo-Japanese
struggle, has revealed the true secret behind the latter. The Tsar and his
Grand Dukes, having invested money in Corean concessions, the war was
forced for the sole purpose of speedily accumulating large fortunes.

The contention that a standing army and navy is the best security of
peace is about as logical as the claim that the most peaceful citizen is he
who goes about heavily armed. The experience of every-day life fully
proves that the armed individual is invariably anxious to try his strength.
The same is historically true of governments. Really peaceful countries do
not waste life and energy in war preparations, with the result that peace is
maintained.

However, the clamor for an increased army and navy is not due to any
foreign danger. It is owing to the dread of the growing discontent of the
masses and of the international spirit among the workers. It is to meet the
internal enemy that the Powers of various countries are preparing
themselves; an enemy, who, once awakened to consciousness, will prove
more dangerous than any foreign invader.

The powers that have for centuries been engaged in enslaving the masses
have made a thorough study of their psychology. They know that the people
at large are like children whose despair, sorrow, and tears can be turned into
joy with a little toy. And the more gorgeously the toy is dressed, the louder
the colors, the more it will appeal to the million-headed child.

An army and navy represents the people's toys. To make them more
attractive and acceptable, hundreds and thousands of dollars are being spent
for the display of these toys. That was the purpose of the American
government in equipping a fleet and sending it along the Pacific coast, that
every American citizen should be made to feel the pride and glory of the
United States. The city of San Francisco spent one hundred thousand dollars
for the entertainment of the fleet; Los Angeles, sixty thousand; Seattle and
Tacoma, about one hundred thousand. To entertain the fleet, did I say? To
dine and wine a few superior officers, while the "brave boys" had to mutiny
to get sufficient food. Yes, two hundred and sixty thousand dollars were
spent on fireworks, theatre parties, and revelries, at a time when men,
women, and children through the breadth and length of the country were
starving in the streets; when thousands of unemployed were ready to sell
their labor at any price.

Two hundred and sixty thousand dollars! What could not have been
accomplished with such an enormous sum? But instead of bread and shelter,

the children of those cities were taken to see the fleet, that it may remain, as
one of the newspapers said, "a lasting memory for the child."

A wonderful thing to remember, is it not? The implements of civilized
slaughter. If the mind of the child is to be poisoned with such memories,
what hope is there for a true realization of human brotherhood?

We Americans claim to be a peace-loving people. We hate bloodshed; we
are opposed to violence. Yet we go into spasms of joy over the possibility of
projecting dynamite bombs from flying machines upon helpless citizens.
We are ready to hang, electrocute, or lynch anyone, who, from economic
necessity, will risk his own life in the attempt upon that of some industrial
magnate. Yet our hearts swell with pride at the thought that America is
becoming the most powerful nation on earth, and that it will eventually
plant her iron foot on the necks of all other nations.

Such is the logic of patriotism.

Considering the evil results that patriotism is fraught with for the
average man, it is as nothing compared with the insult and injury that
patriotism heaps upon the soldier himself,—that poor, deluded victim of
superstition and ignorance. He, the savior of his country, the protector of his
nation,—what has patriotism in store for him? A life of slavish submission,
vice, and perversion, during peace; a life of danger, exposure, and death,
during war.

While on a recent lecture tour in San Francisco, I visited the Presidio, the
most beautiful spot overlooking the Bay and Golden Gate Park. Its purpose
should have been playgrounds for children, gardens and music for the
recreation of the weary. Instead it is made ugly, dull, and gray by barracks,
—barracks wherein the rich would not allow their dogs to dwell. In these
miserable shanties soldiers are herded like cattle; here they waste their
young days, polishing the boots and brass buttons of their superior officers.
Here, too, I saw the distinction of classes: sturdy sons of a free Republic,
drawn up in line like convicts, saluting every passing shrimp of a lieutenant.
American equality, degrading manhood and elevating the uniform!

Barrack life further tends to develop tendencies of sexual perversion. It
is gradually producing along this line results similar to European military
conditions. Havelock Ellis, the noted writer on sex psychology, has made a
thorough study of the subject. I quote: "Some of the barracks are great
centers of male prostitution.... The number of soldiers who prostitute
themselves is greater than we are willing to believe. It is no exaggeration to
say that in certain regiments the presumption is in favor of the venality of
the majority of the men.... On summer evenings Hyde Park and the
neighborhood of Albert Gate are full of guardsmen and others plying a
lively trade, and with little disguise, in uniform or out.... In most cases the
proceeds form a comfortable addition to Tommy Atkins' pocket money."

To what extent this perversion has eaten its way into the army and navy
can best be judged from the fact that special houses exist for this form of
prostitution. The practice is not limited to England; it is universal. "Soldiers
are no less sought after in France than in England or in Germany, and
special houses for military prostitution exist both in Paris and the garrison
towns."

Had Mr. Havelock Ellis included America in his investigation of sex
perversion, he would have found that the same conditions prevail in our
army and navy as in those of other countries. The growth of the standing
army inevitably adds to the spread of sex perversion; the barracks are the
incubators.

Aside from the sexual effects of barrack life, it also tends to unfit the
soldier for useful labor after leaving the army. Men, skilled in a trade,
seldom enter the army or navy, but even they, after a military experience,
find themselves totally unfitted for their former occupations. Having
acquired habits of idleness and a taste for excitement and adventure, no
peaceful pursuit can content them. Released from the army, they can turn to
no useful work. But it is usually the social riff-raff, discharged prisoners
and the like, whom either the struggle for life or their own inclination drives
into the ranks. These, their military term over, again turn to their former life
of crime, more brutalized and degraded than before. It is a well-known fact
that in our prisons there is a goodly number of ex-soldiers; while on the

other hand, the army and navy are to a great extent supplied with ex-
convicts.

Of all the evil results, I have just described, none seems to me so
detrimental to human integrity as the spirit patriotism has produced in the
case of Private William Buwalda. Because he foolishly believed that one
can be a soldier and exercise his rights as a man at the same time, the
military authorities punished him severely. True, he had served his country
fifteen years, during which time his record was unimpeachable. According
to Gen. Funston, who reduced Buwalda's sentence to three years, "the first
duty of an officer or an enlisted man is unquestioned obedience and loyalty
to the government, and it makes no difference whether he approves of that
government or not." Thus Funston stamps the true character of allegiance.
According to him, entrance into the army abrogates the principles of the
Declaration of Independence.

What a strange development of patriotism that turns a thinking being
into a loyal machine!

In justification of this most outrageous sentence of Buwalda, Gen.
Funston tells the American people that the soldier's action was a "serious
crime equal to treason." Now, what did this "terrible crime" really consist
of? Simply in this: William Buwalda was one of fifteen hundred people
who attended a public meeting in San Francisco; and, oh, horrors, he shook
hands with the speaker, Emma Goldman. A terrible crime, indeed, which the
General calls "a great military offense, infinitely worse than desertion."

Can there be a greater indictment against patriotism than that it will thus
brand a man a criminal, throw him into prison, and rob him of the results of
fifteen years of faithful service?

Buwalda gave to his country the best years of his life and his very
manhood. But all that was as nothing. Patriotism is inexorable and, like all
insatiable monsters, demands all or nothing. It does not admit that a soldier
is also a human being, who has a right to his own feelings and opinions, his
own inclinations and ideas. No, patriotism can not admit of that. That is the

lesson which Buwalda was made to learn; made to learn at a rather costly,
though not at a useless, price. When he returned to freedom, he had lost his
position in the army, but he regained his self-respect. After all, that is worth
three years of imprisonment.

A writer on the military conditions of America, in a recent article,
commented on the power of the military man over the civilian in Germany.
He said, among other things, that if our Republic had no other meaning than
to guarantee all citizens equal rights, it would have just cause for existence.
I am convinced that the writer was not in Colorado during the patriotic
regime of General Bell. He probably would have changed his mind had he
seen how, in the name of patriotism and the Republic, men were thrown
into bull-pens, dragged about, driven across the border, and subjected to all
kinds of indignities. Nor is that Colorado incident the only one in the
growth of military power in the United States. There is hardly a strike
where troops and militia do not come to the rescue of those in power, and
where they do not act as arrogantly and brutally as do the men wearing the
Kaiser's uniform. Then, too, we have the Dick military law. Had the writer
forgotten that?

A great misfortune with most of our writers is that they are absolutely
ignorant on current events, or that, lacking honesty, they will not speak of
these matters. And so it has come to pass that the Dick military law was
rushed through Congress with little discussion and still less publicity,—a
law which gives the President the power to turn a peaceful citizen into a
bloodthirsty man-killer, supposedly for the defense of the country, in reality
for the protection of the interests of that particular party whose mouthpiece
the President happens to be.

Our writer claims that militarism can never become such a power in
America as abroad, since it is voluntary with us, while compulsory in the
Old World. Two very important facts, however, the gentleman forgets to
consider. First, that conscription has created in Europe a deep-seated hatred
of militarism among all classes of society. Thousands of young recruits
enlist under protest and, once in the army, they will use every possible
means to desert. Second, that it is the compulsory feature of militarism
which has created a tremendous anti-militarist movement, feared by

European Powers far more than anything else. After all, the greatest
bulwark of capitalism is militarism. The very moment the latter is
undermined, capitalism will totter. True, we have no conscription; that is,
men are not usually forced to enlist in the army, but we have developed a
far more exacting and rigid force—necessity. Is it not a fact that during
industrial depressions there is a tremendous increase in the number of
enlistments? The trade of militarism may not be either lucrative or
honorable, but it is better than tramping the country in search of work,
standing in the bread line, or sleeping in municipal lodging houses. After
all, it means thirteen dollars per month, three meals a day, and a place to
sleep. Yet even necessity is not sufficiently strong a factor to bring into the
army an element of character and manhood. No wonder our military
authorities complain of the "poor material" enlisting in the army and navy.
This admission is a very encouraging sign. It proves that there is still
enough of the spirit of independence and love of liberty left in the average
American to risk starvation rather than don the uniform.

Thinking men and women the world over are beginning to realize that
patriotism is too narrow and limited a conception to meet the necessities of
our time. The centralization of power has brought into being an
international feeling of solidarity among the oppressed nations of the world;
a solidarity which represents a greater harmony of interests between the
workingman of America and his brothers abroad than between the
American miner and his exploiting compatriot; a solidarity which fears not
foreign invasion, because it is bringing all the workers to the point when
they will say to their masters, "Go and do your own killing. We have done it
long enough for you."

This solidarity is awakening the consciousness of even the soldiers, they,
too, being flesh of the flesh of the great human family. A solidarity that has
proven infallible more than once during past struggles, and which has been
the impetus inducing the Parisian soldiers, during the Commune of 1871, to
refuse to obey when ordered to shoot their brothers. It has given courage to
the men who mutinied on Russian warships during recent years. It will
eventually bring about the uprising of all the oppressed and downtrodden
against their international exploiters.

The proletariat of Europe has realized the great force of that solidarity
and has, as a result, inaugurated a war against patriotism and its bloody
spectre, militarism. Thousands of men fill the prisons of France, Germany,
Russia, and the Scandinavian countries, because they dared to defy the
ancient superstition. Nor is the movement limited to the working class; it
has embraced representatives in all stations of life, its chief exponents being
men and women prominent in art, science, and letters.

America will have to follow suit. The spirit of militarism has already
permeated all walks of life. Indeed, I am convinced that militarism is
growing a greater danger here than anywhere else, because of the many
bribes capitalism holds out to those whom it wishes to destroy.

The beginning has already been made in the schools. Evidently the
government holds to the Jesuitical conception, "Give me the child mind,
and I will mould the man." Children are trained in military tactics, the glory
of military achievements extolled in the curriculum, and the youthful minds
perverted to suit the government. Further, the youth of the country is
appealed to in glaring posters to join the army and navy. "A fine chance to
see the world!" cries the governmental huckster. Thus innocent boys are
morally shanghaied into patriotism, and the military Moloch strides
conquering through the Nation.

The American workingman has suffered so much at the hands of the
soldier, State, and Federal, that he is quite justified in his disgust with, and
his opposition to, the uniformed parasite. However, mere denunciation will
not solve this great problem. What we need is a propaganda of education for
the soldier: anti-patriotic literature that will enlighten him as to the real
horrors of his trade, and that will awaken his consciousness to his true
relation to the man to whose labor he owes his very existence.

It is precisely this that the authorities fear most. It is already high treason
for a soldier to attend a radical meeting. No doubt they will also stamp it
high treason for a soldier to read a radical pamphlet. But then, has not
authority from time immemorial stamped every step of progress as
treasonable? Those, however, who earnestly strive for social reconstruction
can well afford to face all that; for it is probably even more important to
carry the truth into the barracks than into the factory. When we have

undermined the patriotic lie, we shall have cleared the path for that great
structure wherein all nationalities shall be united into a universal
brotherhood,—a truly FREE SOCIETY.

FRANCISCO FERRER AND THE MODERN SCHOOL

Experience has come to be considered the best school of life. The man or
woman who does not learn some vital lesson in that school is looked upon
as a dunce indeed. Yet strange to say, that though organized institutions
continue perpetrating errors, though they learn nothing from experience, we
acquiesce, as a matter of course.

There lived and worked in Barcelona a man by the name of Francisco
Ferrer. A teacher of children he was, known and loved by his people.
Outside of Spain only the cultured few knew of Francisco Ferrer's work. To
the world at large this teacher was non-existent.

On the first of September, 1909, the Spanish government—at the behest
of the Catholic Church—arrested Francisco Ferrer. On the thirteenth of
October, after a mock trial, he was placed in the ditch at Montjuich prison,
against the hideous wall of many sighs, and shot dead. Instantly Ferrer, the
obscure teacher, became a universal figure, blazing forth the indignation
and wrath of the whole civilized world against the wanton murder.

The killing of Francisco Ferrer was not the first crime committed by the
Spanish government and the Catholic Church. The history of these
institutions is one long stream of fire and blood. Still they have not learned
through experience, nor yet come to realize that every frail being slain by
Church and State grows and grows into a mighty giant, who will some day
free humanity from their perilous hold.

Francisco Ferrer was born in 1859, of humble parents. They were
Catholics, and therefore hoped to raise their son in the same faith. They did
not know that the boy was to become the harbinger of a great truth, that his
mind would refuse to travel in the old path. At an early age Ferrer began to
question the faith of his fathers. He demanded to know how it is that the
God who spoke to him of goodness and love would mar the sleep of the
innocent child with dread and awe of tortures, of suffering, of hell. Alert
and of a vivid and investigating mind, it did not take him long to discover
the hideousness of that black monster, the Catholic Church. He would have
none of it.

Francisco Ferrer was not only a doubter, a searcher for truth; he was also
a rebel. His spirit would rise in just indignation against the iron regime of
his country, and when a band of rebels, led by the brave patriot, General
Villacampa, under the banner of the Republican ideal, made an onslaught
on that regime, none was more ardent a fighter than young Francisco Ferrer.
The Republican ideal,—I hope no one will confound it with the
Republicanism of this country. Whatever objection I, as an Anarchist, have
to the Republicans of Latin countries, I know they tower high above the
corrupt and reactionary party which, in America, is destroying every vestige
of liberty and justice. One has but to think of the Mazzinis, the Garibaldis,
the scores of others, to realize that their efforts were directed, not merely
towards the overthrow of despotism, but particularly against the Catholic
Church, which from its very inception has been the enemy of all progress
and liberalism.

In America it is just the reverse. Republicanism stands for vested rights,
for imperialism, for graft, for the annihilation of every semblance of liberty.
Its ideal is the oily, creepy respectability of a McKinley, and the brutal
arrogance of a Roosevelt.

The Spanish republican rebels were subdued. It takes more than one
brave effort to split the rock of ages, to cut off the head of that hydra
monster, the Catholic Church and the Spanish throne. Arrest, persecution,
and punishment followed the heroic attempt of the little band. Those who
could escape the bloodhounds had to flee for safety to foreign shores.
Francisco Ferrer was among the latter. He went to France.

How his soul must have expanded in the new land! France, the cradle of
liberty, of ideas, of action. Paris, the ever young, intense Paris, with her
pulsating life, after the gloom of his own belated country,—how she must
have inspired him. What opportunities, what a glorious chance for a young
idealist.

Francisco Ferrer lost no time. Like one famished he threw himself into
the various liberal movements, met all kinds of people, learned, absorbed,
and grew. While there, he also saw in operation the Modern School, which
was to play such an important and fatal part in his life.

The Modern School in France was founded long before Ferrer's time. Its
originator, though on a small scale, was that sweet spirit, Louise Michel.
Whether consciously or unconsciously, our own great Louise felt long ago
that the future belongs to the young generation; that unless the young be
rescued from that mind and soul destroying institution, the bourgeois
school, social evils will continue to exist. Perhaps she thought, with Ibsen,
that the atmosphere is saturated with ghosts, that the adult man and woman
have so many superstitions to overcome. No sooner do they outgrow the
deathlike grip of one spook, lo! they find themselves in the thralldom of
ninety-nine other spooks. Thus but a few reach the mountain peak of
complete regeneration.

The child, however, has no traditions to overcome. Its mind is not
burdened with set ideas, its heart has not grown cold with class and caste
distinctions. The child is to the teacher what clay is to the sculptor. Whether
the world will receive a work of art or a wretched imitation, depends to a
large extent on the creative power of the teacher.

Louise Michel was pre-eminently qualified to meet the child's soul
cravings. Was she not herself of a childlike nature, so sweet and tender,
unsophisticated and generous. The soul of Louise burned always at white
heat over every social injustice. She was invariably in the front ranks
whenever the people of Paris rebelled against some wrong. And as she was
made to suffer imprisonment for her great devotion to the oppressed, the
little school on Montmartre was soon no more. But the seed was planted,
and has since borne fruit in many cities of France.

The most important venture of a Modern School was that of the great,
young old man, Paul Robin. Together with a few friends he established a
large school at Cempuis, a beautiful place near Paris. Paul Robin aimed at a
higher ideal than merely modern ideas in education. He wanted to
demonstrate by actual facts that the bourgeois conception of heredity is but
a mere pretext to exempt society from its terrible crimes against the young.
The contention that the child must suffer for the sins of the fathers, that it
must continue in poverty and filth, that it must grow up a drunkard or
criminal, just because its parents left it no other legacy, was too
preposterous to the beautiful spirit of Paul Robin. He believed that whatever
part heredity may play, there are other factors equally great, if not greater,
that may and will eradicate or minimize the so-called first cause. Proper
economic and social environment, the breath and freedom of nature, healthy
exercise, love and sympathy, and, above all, a deep understanding for the
needs of the child—these would destroy the cruel, unjust, and criminal
stigma imposed on the innocent young.

Paul Robin did not select his children; he did not go to the so-called best
parents: he took his material wherever he could find it. From the street, the
hovels, the orphan and foundling asylums, the reformatories, from all those
gray and hideous places where a benevolent society hides its victims in
order to pacify its guilty conscience. He gathered all the dirty, filthy,
shivering little waifs his place would hold, and brought them to Cempuis.
There, surrounded by nature's own glory, free and unrestrained, well fed,
clean kept, deeply loved and understood, the little human plants began to
grow, to blossom, to develop beyond even the expectations of their friend
and teacher, Paul Robin.

The children grew and developed into self-reliant, liberty loving men
and women. What greater danger to the institutions that make the poor in
order to perpetuate the poor. Cempuis was closed by the French government
on the charge of co-education, which is prohibited in France. However,
Cempuis had been in operation long enough to prove to all advanced
educators its tremendous possibilities, and to serve as an impetus for
modern methods of education, that are slowly but inevitably undermining
the present system.

Cempuis was followed by a great number of other educational attempts,
—among them, by Madelaine Vernet, a gifted writer and poet, author of
L'AMOUR LIBRE, and Sebastian Faure, with his LA RUCHE,[1] which I
visited while in Paris, in 1907.

Several years ago Comrade Faure bought the land on which he built his
LA RUCHE. In a comparatively short time he succeeded in transforming
the former wild, uncultivated country into a blooming spot, having all the
appearance of a well kept farm. A large, square court, enclosed by three
buildings, and a broad path leading to the garden and orchards, greet the eye
of the visitor. The garden, kept as only a Frenchman knows how, furnishes a
large variety of vegetables for LA RUCHE.

Sebastian Faure is of the opinion that if the child is subjected to
contradictory influences, its development suffers in consequence. Only
when the material needs, the hygiene of the home, and intellectual
environment are harmonious, can the child grow into a healthy, free being.

Referring to his school, Sebastian Faure has this to say:

"I have taken twenty-four children of both sexes, mostly orphans, or
those whose parents are too poor to pay. They are clothed, housed, and
educated at my expense. Till their twelfth year they will receive a sound,
elementary education. Between the age of twelve and fifteen—their studies
still continuing—they are to be taught some trade, in keeping with their
individual disposition and abilities. After that they are at liberty to leave LA
RUCHE to begin life in the outside world, with the assurance that they may
at any time return to LA RUCHE, where they will be received with open
arms and welcomed as parents do their beloved children. Then, if they wish
to work at our place, they may do so under the following conditions: One
third of the product to cover his or her expenses of maintenance, another
third to go towards the general fund set aside for accommodating new
children, and the last third to be devoted to the personal use of the child, as
he or she may see fit.

"The health of the children who are now in my care is perfect. Pure air,
nutritious food, physical exercise in the open, long walks, observation of
hygienic rules, the short and interesting method of instruction, and, above

all, our affectionate understanding and care of the children, have produced
admirable physical and mental results.

"It would be unjust to claim that our pupils have accomplished wonders;
yet, considering that they belong to the average, having had no previous
opportunities, the results are very gratifying indeed. The most important
thing they have acquired—a rare trait with ordinary school children—is the
love of study, the desire to know, to be informed. They have learned a new
method of work, one that quickens the memory and stimulates the
imagination. We make a particular effort to awaken the child's interest in his
surroundings, to make him realize the importance of observation,
investigation, and reflection, so that when the children reach maturity, they
would not be deaf and blind to the things about them. Our children never
accept anything in blind faith, without inquiry as to why and wherefore; nor
do they feel satisfied until their questions are thoroughly answered. Thus
their minds are free from doubts and fear resultant from incomplete or
untruthful replies; it is the latter which warp the growth of the child, and
create a lack of confidence in himself and those about him.

"It is surprising how frank and kind and affectionate our little ones are to
each other. The harmony between themselves and the adults at LA RUCHE
is highly encouraging. We should feel at fault if the children were to fear or
honor us merely because we are their elders. We leave nothing undone to
gain their confidence and love; that accomplished, understanding will
replace duty; confidence, fear; and affection, severity.

"No one has yet fully realized the wealth of sympathy, kindness, and
generosity hidden in the soul of the child. The effort of every true educator
should be to unlock that treasure—to stimulate the child's impulses, and call
forth the best and noblest tendencies. What greater reward can there be for
one whose life-work is to watch over the growth of the human plant, than to
see its nature unfold its petals, and to observe it develop into a true
individuality. My comrades at LA RUCHE look for no greater reward, and
it is due to them and their efforts, even more than to my own, that our
human garden promises to bear beautiful fruit."[2]

Regarding the subject of history and the prevailing old methods of
instruction, Sebastian Faure said:

"We explain to our children that true history is yet to be written,—the
story of those who have died, unknown, in the effort to aid humanity to
greater achievement."[3]

Francisco Ferrer could not escape this great wave of Modern School
attempts. He saw its possibilities, not merely in theoretic form, but in their
practical application to every-day needs. He must have realized that Spain,
more than any other country, stands in need of just such schools, if it is ever
to throw off the double yoke of priest and soldier.

When we consider that the entire system of education in Spain is in the
hands of the Catholic Church, and when we further remember the Catholic
formula, "To inculcate Catholicism in the mind of the child until it is nine
years of age is to ruin it forever for any other idea," we will understand the
tremendous task of Ferrer in bringing the new light to his people. Fate soon
assisted him in realizing his great dream.

Mlle. Meunier, a pupil of Francisco Ferrer, and a lady of wealth, became
interested in the Modern School project. When she died, she left Ferrer
some valuable property and twelve thousand francs yearly income for the
School.

It is said that mean souls can conceive of naught but mean ideas. If so,
the contemptible methods of the Catholic Church to blackguard Ferrer's
character, in order to justify her own black crime, can readily be explained.
Thus the lie was spread in American Catholic papers, that Ferrer used his
intimacy with Mlle. Meunier to get possession of her money.

Personally, I hold that the intimacy, of whatever nature, between a man
and a woman, is their own affair, their sacred own. I would therefore not
lose a word in referring to the matter, if it were not one of the many
dastardly lies circulated about Ferrer. Of course, those who know the purity
of the Catholic clergy will understand the insinuation. Have the Catholic
priests ever looked upon woman as anything but a sex commodity? The
historical data regarding the discoveries in the cloisters and monasteries
will bear me out in that. How, then, are they to understand the co-operation
of a man and a woman, except on a sex basis?

As a matter of fact, Mlle. Meunier was considerably Ferrer's senior.
Having spent her childhood and girlhood with a miserly father and a
submissive mother, she could easily appreciate the necessity of love and joy
in child life. She must have seen that Francisco Ferrer was a teacher, not
college, machine, or diploma-made, but one endowed with genius for that
calling.

Equipped with knowledge, with experience, and with the necessary
means; above all, imbued with the divine fire of his mission, our Comrade
came back to Spain, and there began his life's work. On the ninth of
September, 1901, the first Modern School was opened. It was
enthusiastically received by the people of Barcelona, who pledged their
support. In a short address at the opening of the School, Ferrer submitted
his program to his friends. He said: "I am not a speaker, not a propagandist,
not a fighter. I am a teacher; I love children above everything. I think I
understand them. I want my contribution to the cause of liberty to be a
young generation ready to meet a new era."

He was cautioned by his friends to be careful in his opposition to the
Catholic Church. They knew to what lengths she would go to dispose of an
enemy. Ferrer, too, knew. But, like Brand, he believed in all or nothing. He
would not erect the Modern School on the same old lie. He would be frank
and honest and open with the children.

Francisco Ferrer became a marked man. From the very first day of the
opening of the School, he was shadowed. The school building was watched,
his little home in Mangat was watched. He was followed every step, even
when he went to France or England to confer with his colleagues. He was a
marked man, and it was only a question of time when the lurking enemy
would tighten the noose.

It succeeded, almost, in 1906, when Ferrer was implicated in the attempt
on the life of Alfonso. The evidence exonerating him was too strong even
for the black crows;[4] they had to let him go—not for good, however. They
waited. Oh, they can wait, when they have set themselves to trap a victim.

The moment came at last, during the anti-military uprising in Spain, in
July, 1909. One will have to search in vain the annals of revolutionary

history to find a more remarkable protest against militarism. Having been
soldier-ridden for centuries, the people of Spain could stand the yoke no
longer. They would refuse to participate in useless slaughter. They saw no
reason for aiding a despotic government in subduing and oppressing a small
people fighting for their independence, as did the brave Riffs. No, they
would not bear arms against them.

For eighteen hundred years the Catholic Church has preached the gospel
of peace. Yet, when the people actually wanted to make this gospel a living
reality, she urged the authorities to force them to bear arms. Thus the
dynasty of Spain followed the murderous methods of the Russian dynasty,
—the people were forced to the battlefield.

Then, and not until then, was their power of endurance at an end. Then,
and not until then, did the workers of Spain turn against their masters,
against those who, like leeches, had drained their strength, their very life-
blood. Yes, they attacked the churches and the priests, but if the latter had a
thousand lives, they could not possibly pay for the terrible outrages and
crimes perpetrated upon the Spanish people.

Francisco Ferrer was arrested on the first of September, 1909. Until
October first, his friends and comrades did not even know what had become
of him. On that day a letter was received by L'HUMANITE, from which
can be learned the whole mockery of the trial. And the next day his
companion, Soledad Villafranca, received the following letter:

"No reason to worry; you know I am absolutely innocent. Today I am
particularly hopeful and joyous. It is the first time I can write to you, and
the first time since my arrest that I can bathe in the rays of the sun,
streaming generously through my cell window. You, too, must be joyous."

How pathetic that Ferrer should have believed, as late as October fourth,
that he would not be condemned to death. Even more pathetic that his
friends and comrades should once more have made the blunder in crediting
the enemy with a sense of justice. Time and again they had placed faith in
the judicial powers, only to see their brothers killed before their very eyes.
They made no preparation to rescue Ferrer, not even a protest of any extent;
nothing. "Why, it is impossible to condemn Ferrer; he is innocent." But

everything is possible with the Catholic Church. Is she not a practiced
henchman, whose trials of her enemies are the worst mockery of justice?

On October fourth Ferrer sent the following letter to L'HUMANITE:

The Prison Cell, Oct. 4, 1909.

My dear Friends—Notwithstanding most absolute innocence, the prosecutor
demands the death penalty, based on denunciations of the police, representing me
as the chief of the world's Anarchists, directing the labor syndicates of France,
and guilty of conspiracies and insurrections everywhere, and declaring that my
voyages to London and Paris were undertaken with no other object.

With such infamous lies they are trying to kill me.

The messenger is about to depart and I have not time for more. All the evidence
presented to the investigating judge by the police is nothing but a tissue of lies
and calumnious insinuations. But no proofs against me, having done nothing at
all.

FERRER.

October thirteenth, 1909, Ferrer's heart, so brave, so staunch, so loyal,
was stilled. Poor fools! The last agonized throb of that heart had barely died
away when it began to beat a hundredfold in the hearts of the civilized
world, until it grew into terrific thunder, hurling forth its malediction upon
the instigators of the black crime. Murderers of black garb and pious mien,
to the bar of justice!

Did Francisco Ferrer participate in the anti-military uprising? According
to the first indictment, which appeared in a Catholic paper in Madrid,
signed by the Bishop and all the prelates of Barcelona, he was not even
accused of participation. The indictment was to the effect that Francisco
Ferrer was guilty of having organized godless schools, and having
circulated godless literature. But in the twentieth century men can not be
burned merely for their godless beliefs. Something else had to be devised;
hence the charge of instigating the uprising.

In no authentic source so far investigated could a single proof be found
to connect Ferrer with the uprising. But then, no proofs were wanted, or
accepted, by the authorities. There were seventy-two witnesses, to be sure,
but their testimony was taken on paper. They never were confronted with
Ferrer, or he with them.

Is it psychologically possible that Ferrer should have participated? I do
not believe it is, and here are my reasons. Francisco Ferrer was not only a
great teacher, but he was also undoubtedly a marvelous organizer. In eight
years, between 1901-1909, he had organized in Spain one hundred and nine
schools, besides inducing the liberal element of his country to organize
three hundred and eight other schools. In connection with his own school
work, Ferrer had equipped a modern printing plant, organized a staff of
translators, and spread broadcast one hundred and fifty thousand copies of
modern scientific and sociologic works, not to forget the large quantity of
rationalist text books. Surely none but the most methodical and efficient
organizer could have accomplished such a feat.

On the other hand, it was absolutely proven that the anti-military
uprising was not at all organized; that it came as a surprise to the people
themselves, like a great many revolutionary waves on previous occasions.
The people of Barcelona, for instance, had the city in their control for four
days, and, according to the statement of tourists, greater order and peace
never prevailed. Of course, the people were so little prepared that when the
time came, they did not know what to do. In this regard they were like the
people of Paris during the Commune of 1871. They, too, were unprepared.
While they were starving, they protected the warehouses, filled to the brim
with provisions. They placed sentinels to guard the Bank of France, where
the bourgeoisie kept the stolen money. The workers of Barcelona, too,
watched over the spoils of their masters.

How pathetic is the stupidity of the underdog; how terribly tragic! But,
then, have not his fetters been forged so deeply into his flesh, that he would
not, even if he could, break them? The awe of authority, of law, of private
property, hundredfold burned into his soul,—how is he to throw it off
unprepared, unexpectedly?

Can anyone assume for a moment that a man like Ferrer would affiliate
himself with such a spontaneous, unorganized effort? Would he not have
known that it would result in a defeat, a disastrous defeat for the people?
And is it not more likely that if he would have taken part, he, the
experienced ENTREPRENEUR, would have thoroughly organized the
attempt? If all other proofs were lacking, that one factor would be sufficient
to exonerate Francisco Ferrer. But there are others equally convincing.

For the very date of the outbreak, July twenty-fifth, Ferrer had called a
conference of his teachers and members of the League of Rational
Education. It was to consider the autumn work, and particularly the
publication of Elisee Reclus' great book, L'HOMME ET LA TERRE, and
Peter Kropotkin's GREAT FRENCH REVOLUTION. Is it at all likely, is it
at all plausible that Ferrer, knowing of the uprising, being a party to it,
would in cold blood invite his friends and colleagues to Barcelona for the
day on which he realized their lives would be endangered? Surely, only the
criminal, vicious mind of a Jesuit could credit such deliberate murder.

Francisco Ferrer had his life-work mapped out; he had everything to lose
and nothing to gain, except ruin and disaster, were he to lend assistance to
the outbreak. Not that he doubted the justice of the people's wrath; but his
work, his hope, his very nature was directed toward another goal.

In vain are the frantic efforts of the Catholic Church, her lies, falsehoods,
calumnies. She stands condemned by the awakened human conscience of
having once more repeated the foul crimes of the past.

Francisco Ferrer is accused of teaching the children the most blood-
curdling ideas,—to hate God, for instance. Horrors! Francisco Ferrer did
not believe in the existence of a God. Why teach the child to hate something
which does not exist? Is it not more likely that he took the children out into
the open, that he showed them the splendor of the sunset, the brilliancy of
the starry heavens, the awe-inspiring wonder of the mountains and seas;
that he explained to them in his simple, direct way the law of growth, of
development, of the interrelation of all life? In so doing he made it forever
impossible for the poisonous weeds of the Catholic Church to take root in
the child's mind.

It has been stated that Ferrer prepared the children to destroy the rich.
Ghost stories of old maids. Is it not more likely that he prepared them to
succor the poor? That he taught them the humiliation, the degradation, the
awfulness of poverty, which is a vice and not a virtue; that he taught the
dignity and importance of all creative efforts, which alone sustain life and
build character. Is it not the best and most effective way of bringing into the
proper light the absolute uselessness and injury of parasitism?

Last, but not least, Ferrer is charged with undermining the army by
inculcating anti-military ideas. Indeed? He must have believed with Tolstoy
that war is legalized slaughter, that it perpetuates hatred and arrogance, that
it eats away the heart of nations, and turns them into raving maniacs.

However, we have Ferrer's own word regarding his ideas of modern
education:

"I would like to call the attention of my readers to this idea: All the value
of education rests in the respect for the physical, intellectual, and moral will
of the child. Just as in science no demonstration is possible save by facts,
just so there is no real education save that which is exempt from all
dogmatism, which leaves to the child itself the direction of its effort, and
confines itself to the seconding of its effort. Now, there is nothing easier
than to alter this purpose, and nothing harder than to respect it. Education is
always imposing, violating, constraining; the real educator is he who can
best protect the child against his (the teacher's) own ideas, his peculiar
whims; he who can best appeal to the child's own energies.

"We are convinced that the education of the future will be of an entirely
spontaneous nature; certainly we can not as yet realize it, but the evolution
of methods in the direction of a wider comprehension of the phenomena of
life, and the fact that all advances toward perfection mean the overcoming
of restraint,—all this indicates that we are in the right when we hope for the
deliverance of the child through science.

"Let us not fear to say that we want men capable of evolving without
stopping, capable of destroying and renewing their environments without
cessation, of renewing themselves also; men, whose intellectual
independence will be their greatest force, who will attach themselves to

nothing, always ready to accept what is best, happy in the triumph of new
ideas, aspiring to live multiple lives in one life. Society fears such men; we
therefore must not hope that it will ever want an education able to give
them to us.

"We shall follow the labors of the scientists who study the child with the
greatest attention, and we shall eagerly seek for means of applying their
experience to the education which we want to build up, in the direction of
an ever fuller liberation of the individual. But how can we attain our end?
Shall it not be by putting ourselves directly to the work favoring the
foundation of new schools, which shall be ruled as much as possible by this
spirit of liberty, which we forefeel will dominate the entire work of
education in the future?

"A trial has been made, which, for the present, has already given
excellent results. We can destroy all which in the present school answers to
the organization of constraint, the artificial surroundings by which children
are separated from nature and life, the intellectual and moral discipline
made use of to impose ready-made ideas upon them, beliefs which deprave
and annihilate natural bent. Without fear of deceiving ourselves, we can
restore the child to the environment which entices it, the environment of
nature in which he will be in contact with all that he loves, and in which
impressions of life will replace fastidious book-learning. If we did no more
than that, we should already have prepared in great part the deliverance of
the child.

"In such conditions we might already freely apply the data of science
and labor most fruitfully.

"I know very well we could not thus realize all our hopes, that we should
often be forced, for lack of knowledge, to employ undesirable methods; but
a certitude would sustain us in our efforts—namely, that even without
reaching our aim completely we should do more and better in our still
imperfect work than the present school accomplishes. I like the free
spontaneity of a child who knows nothing, better than the world-knowledge
and intellectual deformity of a child who has been subjected to our present
education."[5]

Had Ferrer actually organized the riots, had he fought on the barricades,
had he hurled a hundred bombs, he could not have been so dangerous to the
Catholic Church and to despotism, as with his opposition to discipline and
restraint. Discipline and restraint—are they not back of all the evils in the
world? Slavery, submission, poverty, all misery, all social iniquities result
from discipline and restraint. Indeed, Ferrer was dangerous. Therefore he
had to die, October thirteenth, 1909, in the ditch of Montjuich. Yet who dare
say his death was in vain? In view of the tempestuous rise of universal
indignation: Italy naming streets in memory of Francisco Ferrer, Belgium
inaugurating a movement to erect a memorial; France calling to the front
her most illustrious men to resume the heritage of the martyr; England
being the first to issue a biography:—all countries uniting in perpetuating
the great work of Francisco Ferrer; America, even, tardy always in
progressive ideas, giving birth to a Francisco Ferrer Association, its aim
being to publish a complete life of Ferrer and to organize Modern Schools
all over the country; in the face of this international revolutionary wave,
who is there to say Ferrer died in vain?

That death at Montjuich,—how wonderful, how dramatic it was, how it
stirs the human soul. Proud and erect, the inner eye turned toward the light,
Francisco Ferrer needed no lying priests to give him courage, nor did he
upbraid a phantom for forsaking him. The consciousness that his
executioners represented a dying age, and that his was the living truth,
sustained him in the last heroic moments.
A dying age and a living truth,
The living burying the dead.

[1] THE BEEHIVE.

[2] MOTHER EARTH, 1907.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Black crows: The Catholic clergy.

[5] MOTHER EARTH, December, 1909.

THE HYPOCRISY OF PURITANISM

Speaking of Puritanism in relation to American art, Mr. Gutzen Burglum
said: "Puritanism has made us self-centered and hypocritical for so long,
that sincerity and reverence for what is natural in our impulses have been
fairly bred out of us, with the result that there can be neither truth nor
individuality in our art."

Mr. Burglum might have added that Puritanism has made life itself
impossible. More than art, more than estheticism, life represents beauty in a
thousand variations; it is, indeed, a gigantic panorama of eternal change.
Puritanism, on the other hand, rests on a fixed and immovable conception
of life; it is based on the Calvinistic idea that life is a curse, imposed upon
man by the wrath of God. In order to redeem himself man must do constant
penance, must repudiate every natural and healthy impulse, and turn his
back on joy and beauty.

Puritanism celebrated its reign of terror in England during the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries, destroying and crushing every manifestation of
art and culture. It was the spirit of Puritanism which robbed Shelley of his
children, because he would not bow to the dicta of religion. It was the same
narrow spirit which alienated Byron from his native land, because that great
genius rebelled against the monotony, dullness, and pettiness of his country.
It was Puritanism, too, that forced some of England's freest women into the
conventional lie of marriage: Mary Wollstonecraft and, later, George Eliot.
And recently Puritanism has demanded another toll—the life of Oscar
Wilde. In fact, Puritanism has never ceased to be the most pernicious factor
in the domain of John Bull, acting as censor of the artistic expression of his
people, and stamping its approval only on the dullness of middle-class
respectability.

It is therefore sheer British jingoism which points to America as the
country of Puritanic provincialism. It is quite true that our life is stunted by

Puritanism, and that the latter is killing what is natural and healthy in our
impulses. But it is equally true that it is to England that we are indebted for
transplanting this spirit on American soil. It was bequeathed to us by the
Pilgrim fathers. Fleeing from persecution and oppression, the Pilgrims of
Mayflower fame established in the New World a reign of Puritanic tyranny
and crime. The history of New England, and especially of Massachusetts, is
full of the horrors that have turned life into gloom, joy into despair,
naturalness into disease, honesty and truth into hideous lies and hypocrisies.
The ducking-stool and whipping post, as well as numerous other devices of
torture, were the favorite English methods for American purification.

Boston, the city of culture, has gone down in the annals of Puritanism as
the "Bloody Town." It rivaled Salem, even, in her cruel persecution of
unauthorized religious opinions. On the now famous Common a half-naked
woman, with a baby in her arms, was publicly whipped for the crime of free
speech; and on the same spot Mary Dyer, another Quaker woman, was
hanged in 1659. In fact, Boston has been the scene of more than one wanton
crime committed by Puritanism. Salem, in the summer of 1692, killed
eighteen people for witchcraft. Nor was Massachusetts alone in driving out
the devil by fire and brimstone. As Canning justly said: "The Pilgrim
fathers infested the New World to redress the balance of the Old." The
horrors of that period have found their most supreme expression in the
American classic, THE SCARLET LETTER.

Puritanism no longer employs the thumbscrew and lash; but it still has a
most pernicious hold on the minds and feelings of the American people.
Naught else can explain the power of a Comstock. Like the Torquemadas of
ante-bellum days, Anthony Comstock is the autocrat of American morals;
he dictates the standards of good and evil, of purity and vice. Like a thief in
the night he sneaks into the private lives of the people, into their most
intimate relations. The system of espionage established by this man
Comstock puts to shame the infamous Third Division of the Russian secret
police. Why does the public tolerate such an outrage on its liberties? Simply
because Comstock is but the loud expression of the Puritanism bred in the
Anglo-Saxon blood, and from whose thraldom even liberals have not
succeeded in fully emancipating themselves. The visionless and leaden
elements of the old Young Men's and Women's Christian Temperance

Unions, Purity Leagues, American Sabbath Unions, and the Prohibition
Party, with Anthony Comstock as their patron saint, are the grave diggers of
American art and culture.

Europe can at least boast of a bold art and literature which delve deeply
into the social and sexual problems of our time, exercising a severe critique
of all our shams. As with a surgeon's knife every Puritanic carcass is
dissected, and the way thus cleared for man's liberation from the dead
weights of the past. But with Puritanism as the constant check upon
American life, neither truth nor sincerity is possible. Nothing but gloom and
mediocrity to dictate human conduct, curtail natural expression, and stifle
our best impulses. Puritanism in this the twentieth century is as much the
enemy of freedom and beauty as it was when it landed on Plymouth Rock.
It repudiates, as something vile and sinful, our deepest feelings; but being
absolutely ignorant as to the real functions of human emotions, Puritanism
is itself the creator of the most unspeakable vices.

The entire history of asceticism proves this to be only too true. The
Church, as well as Puritanism, has fought the flesh as something evil; it had
to be subdued and hidden at all cost. The result of this vicious attitude is
only now beginning to be recognized by modern thinkers and educators.
They realize that "nakedness has a hygienic value as well as a spiritual
significance, far beyond its influences in allaying the natural inquisitiveness
of the young or acting as a preventative of morbid emotion. It is an
inspiration to adults who have long outgrown any youthful curiosities. The
vision of the essential and eternal human form, the nearest thing to us in all
the world, with its vigor and its beauty and its grace, is one of the prime
tonics of life."[1] But the spirit of purism has so perverted the human mind
that it has lost the power to appreciate the beauty of nudity, forcing us to
hide the natural form under the plea of chastity. Yet chastity itself is but an
artificial imposition upon nature, expressive of a false shame of the human
form. The modern idea of chastity, especially in reference to woman, its
greatest victim, is but the sensuous exaggeration of our natural impulses.
"Chastity varies with the amount of clothing," and hence Christians and
purists forever hasten to cover the "heathen" with tatters, and thus convert
him to goodness and chastity.

Puritanism, with its perversion of the significance and functions of the
human body, especially in regard to woman, has condemned her to celibacy,
or to the indiscriminate breeding of a diseased race, or to prostitution. The
enormity of this crime against humanity is apparent when we consider the
results. Absolute sexual continence is imposed upon the unmarried woman,
under pain of being considered immoral or fallen, with the result of
producing neurasthenia, impotence, depression, and a great variety of
nervous complaints involving diminished power of work, limited enjoyment
of life, sleeplessness, and preoccupation with sexual desires and
imaginings. The arbitrary and pernicious dictum of total continence
probably also explains the mental inequality of the sexes. Thus Freud
believes that the intellectual inferiority of so many women is due to the
inhibition of thought imposed upon them for the purpose of sexual
repression. Having thus suppressed the natural sex desires of the unmarried
woman, Puritanism, on the other hand, blesses her married sister for
incontinent fruitfulness in wedlock. Indeed, not merely blesses her, but
forces the woman, oversexed by previous repression, to bear children,
irrespective of weakened physical condition or economic inability to rear a
large family. Prevention, even by scientifically determined safe methods, is
absolutely prohibited; nay, the very mention of the subject is considered
criminal.

Thanks to this Puritanic tyranny, the majority of women soon find
themselves at the ebb of their physical resources. Ill and worn, they are
utterly unable to give their children even elementary care. That, added to
economic pressure, forces many women to risk utmost danger rather than
continue to bring forth life. The custom of procuring abortions has reached
such vast proportions in America as to be almost beyond belief. According
to recent investigations along this line, seventeen abortions are committed
in every hundred pregnancies. This fearful percentage represents only cases
which come to the knowledge of physicians. Considering the secrecy in
which this practice is necessarily shrouded, and the consequent professional
inefficiency and neglect, Puritanism continuously exacts thousands of
victims to its own stupidity and hypocrisy.

Prostitution, although hounded, imprisoned, and chained, is nevertheless
the greatest triumph of Puritanism. It is its most cherished child, all
hypocritical sanctimoniousness notwithstanding. The prostitute is the fury
of our century, sweeping across the "civilized" countries like a hurricane,
and leaving a trail of disease and disaster. The only remedy Puritanism
offers for this ill-begotten child is greater repression and more merciless
persecution. The latest outrage is represented by the Page Law, which
imposes upon New York the terrible failure and crime of Europe; namely,
registration and segregation of the unfortunate victims of Puritanism. In
equally stupid manner purism seeks to check the terrible scourge of its own
creation—venereal diseases. Most disheartening it is that this spirit of
obtuse narrow-mindedness has poisoned even our so-called liberals, and has
blinded them into joining the crusade against the very things born of the
hypocrisy of Puritanism—prostitution and its results. In wilful blindness
Puritanism refuses to see that the true method of prevention is the one
which makes it clear to all that "venereal diseases are not a mysterious or
terrible thing, the penalty of the sin of the flesh, a sort of shameful evil
branded by purist malediction, but an ordinary disease which may be
treated and cured." By its methods of obscurity, disguise, and concealment,
Puritanism has furnished favorable conditions for the growth and spread of
these diseases. Its bigotry is again most strikingly demonstrated by the
senseless attitude in regard to the great discovery of Prof. Ehrlich,
hypocrisy veiling the important cure for syphilis with vague allusions to a
remedy for "a certain poison."

The almost limitless capacity of Puritanism for evil is due to its
intrenchment behind the State and the law. Pretending to safeguard the
people against "immorality," it has impregnated the machinery of
government and added to its usurpation of moral guardianship the legal
censorship of our views, feelings, and even of our conduct.

Art, literature, the drama, the privacy of the mails, in fact, our most
intimate tastes, are at the mercy of this inexorable tyrant. Anthony
Comstock, or some other equally ignorant policeman, has been given power
to desecrate genius, to soil and mutilate the sublimest creation of nature—
the human form. Books dealing with the most vital issues of our lives, and
seeking to shed light upon dangerously obscured problems, are legally

treated as criminal offenses, and their helpless authors thrown into prison or
driven to destruction and death.

Not even in the domain of the Tsar is personal liberty daily outraged to
the extent it is in America, the stronghold of the Puritanic eunuchs. Here the
only day of recreation left to the masses, Sunday, has been made hideous
and utterly impossible. All writers on primitive customs and ancient
civilization agree that the Sabbath was a day of festivities, free from care
and duties, a day of general rejoicing and merry-making. In every European
country this tradition continues to bring some relief from the humdrum and
stupidity of our Christian era. Everywhere concert halls, theaters, museums,
and gardens are filled with men, women, and children, particularly workers
with their families, full of life and joy, forgetful of the ordinary rules and
conventions of their every-day existence. It is on that day that the masses
demonstrate what life might really mean in a sane society, with work
stripped of its profit-making, soul-destroying purpose.

Puritanism has robbed the people even of that one day. Naturally, only
the workers are affected: our millionaires have their luxurious homes and
elaborate clubs. The poor, however, are condemned to the monotony and
dullness of the American Sunday. The sociability and fun of European
outdoor life is here exchanged for the gloom of the church, the stuffy, germ-
saturated country parlor, or the brutalizing atmosphere of the back-room
saloon. In Prohibition States the people lack even the latter, unless they can
invest their meager earnings in quantities of adulterated liquor. As to
Prohibition, every one knows what a farce it really is. Like all other
achievements of Puritanism it, too, has but driven the "devil" deeper into
the human system. Nowhere else does one meet so many drunkards as in
our Prohibition towns. But so long as one can use scented candy to abate
the foul breath of hypocrisy, Puritanism is triumphant. Ostensibly
Prohibition is opposed to liquor for reasons of health and economy, but the
very spirit of Prohibition being itself abnormal, it succeeds but in creating
an abnormal life.

Every stimulus which quickens the imagination and raises the spirits, is
as necessary to our life as air. It invigorates the body, and deepens our
vision of human fellowship. Without stimuli, in one form or another,

creative work is impossible, nor indeed the spirit of kindliness and
generosity. The fact that some great geniuses have seen their reflection in
the goblet too frequently, does not justify Puritanism in attempting to fetter
the whole gamut of human emotions. A Byron and a Poe have stirred
humanity deeper than all the Puritans can ever hope to do. The former have
given to life meaning and color; the latter are turning red blood into water,
beauty into ugliness, variety into uniformity and decay. Puritanism, in
whatever expression, is a poisonous germ. On the surface everything may
look strong and vigorous; yet the poison works its way persistently, until the
entire fabric is doomed. With Hippolyte Taine, every truly free spirit has
come to realize that "Puritanism is the death of culture, philosophy, humor,
and good fellowship; its characteristics are dullness, monotony, and gloom."

[1] THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SEX. Havelock Ellis.

THE TRAFFIC IN WOMEN

Our reformers have suddenly made a great discovery—the white slave
traffic. The papers are full of these "unheard of conditions," and lawmakers
are already planning a new set of laws to check the horror.

It is significant that whenever the public mind is to be diverted from a
great social wrong, a crusade is inaugurated against indecency, gambling,
saloons, etc. And what is the result of such crusades? Gambling is
increasing, saloons are doing a lively business through back entrances,
prostitution is at its height, and the system of pimps and cadets is but
aggravated.

How is it that an institution, known almost to every child, should have
been discovered so suddenly? How is it that this evil, known to all

sociologists, should now be made such an important issue?

To assume that the recent investigation of the white slave traffic (and, by
the way, a very superficial investigation) has discovered anything new, is, to
say the least, very foolish. Prostitution has been, and is, a widespread evil,
yet mankind goes on its business, perfectly indifferent to the sufferings and
distress of the victims of prostitution. As indifferent, indeed, as mankind has
remained to our industrial system, or to economic prostitution.

Only when human sorrows are turned into a toy with glaring colors will
baby people become interested—for a while at least. The people are a very
fickle baby that must have new toys every day. The "righteous" cry against
the white slave traffic is such a toy. It serves to amuse the people for a little
while, and it will help to create a few more fat political jobs—parasites who
stalk about the world as inspectors, investigators, detectives, and so forth.

What is really the cause of the trade in women? Not merely white
women, but yellow and black women as well. Exploitation, of course; the
merciless Moloch of capitalism that fattens on underpaid labor, thus driving
thousands of women and girls into prostitution. With Mrs. Warren these
girls feel, "Why waste your life working for a few shillings a week in a
scullery, eighteen hours a day?"

Naturally our reformers say nothing about this cause. They know it well
enough, but it doesn't pay to say anything about it. It is much more
profitable to play the Pharisee, to pretend an outraged morality, than to go
to the bottom of things.

However, there is one commendable exception among the young writers:
Reginald Wright Kauffman, whose work, THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE, is
the first earnest attempt to treat the social evil, not from a sentimental
Philistine viewpoint. A journalist of wide experience, Mr. Kauffman proves
that our industrial system leaves most women no alternative except
prostitution. The women portrayed in THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE belong
to the working class. Had the author portrayed the life of women in other
spheres, he would have been confronted with the same state of affairs.

Nowhere is woman treated according to the merit of her work, but rather
as a sex. It is therefore almost inevitable that she should pay for her right to
exist, to keep a position in whatever line, with sex favors. Thus it is merely
a question of degree whether she sells herself to one man, in or out of
marriage, or to many men. Whether our reformers admit it or not, the
economic and social inferiority of woman is responsible for prostitution.

Just at present our good people are shocked by the disclosures that in
New York City alone, one out of every ten women works in a factory, that
the average wage received by women is six dollars per week for forty-eight
to sixty hours of work, and that the majority of female wage workers face
many months of idleness which leaves the average wage about $280 a year.
In view of these economic horrors, is it to be wondered at that prostitution
and the white slave trade have become such dominant factors?

Lest the preceding figures be considered an exaggeration, it is well to
examine what some authorities on prostitution have to say:

"A prolific cause of female depravity can be found in the several tables,
showing the description of the employment pursued, and the wages
received, by the women previous to their fall, and it will be a question for
the political economist to decide how far mere business consideration
should be an apology on the part of employers for a reduction in their rates
of remuneration, and whether the savings of a small percentage on wages is
not more than counter-balanced by the enormous amount of taxation
enforced on the public at large to defray the expenses incurred on account
of a system of vice, WHICH IS THE DIRECT RESULT, IN MANY
CASES, OF INSUFFICIENT COMPENSATION OF HONEST LABOR."
[1]

Our present-day reformers would do well to look into Dr. Sanger's book.
There they will find that out of 2,000 cases under his observation, but few
came from the middle classes, from well-ordered conditions, or pleasant
homes. By far the largest majority were working girls and working women;
some driven into prostitution through sheer want, others because of a cruel,
wretched life at home, others again because of thwarted and crippled
physical natures (of which I shall speak later on). Also it will do the
maintainers of purity and morality good to learn that out of two thousand

cases, 490 were married women, women who lived with their husbands.
Evidently there was not much of a guaranty for their "safety and purity" in
the sanctity of marriage.[2]

Dr. Alfred Blaschko, in PROSTITUTION IN THE NINETEENTH
CENTURY, is even more emphatic in characterizing economic conditions
as one of the most vital factors of prostitution.

"Although prostitution has existed in all ages, it was left to the
nineteenth century to develop it into a gigantic social institution. The
development of industry with vast masses of people in the competitive
market, the growth and congestion of large cities, the insecurity and
uncertainty of employment, has given prostitution an impetus never
dreamed of at any period in human history."

And again Havelock Ellis, while not so absolute in dealing with the
economic cause, is nevertheless compelled to admit that it is indirectly and
directly the main cause. Thus he finds that a large percentage of prostitutes
is recruited from the servant class, although the latter have less care and
greater security. On the other hand, Mr. Ellis does not deny that the daily
routine, the drudgery, the monotony of the servant girl's lot, and especially
the fact that she may never partake of the companionship and joy of a
home, is no mean factor in forcing her to seek recreation and forgetfulness
in the gaiety and glimmer of prostitution. In other words, the servant girl,
being treated as a drudge, never having the right to herself, and worn out by
the caprices of her mistress, can find an outlet, like the factory or shopgirl,
only in prostitution.

The most amusing side of the question now before the public is the
indignation of our "good, respectable people," especially the various
Christian gentlemen, who are always to be found in the front ranks of every
crusade. Is it that they are absolutely ignorant of the history of religion, and
especially of the Christian religion? Or is it that they hope to blind the
present generation to the part played in the past by the Church in relation to
prostitution? Whatever their reason, they should be the last to cry out
against the unfortunate victims of today, since it is known to every
intelligent student that prostitution is of religious origin, maintained and

fostered for many centuries, not as a shame but as a virtue, hailed as such
by the Gods themselves.

"It would seem that the origin of prostitution is to be found primarily in a
religious custom, religion, the great conserver of social tradition, preserving
in a transformed shape a primitive freedom that was passing out of the
general social life. The typical example is that recorded by Herodotus, in
the fifth century before Christ, at the Temple of Mylitta, the Babylonian
Venus, where every woman, once in her life, had to come and give herself
to the first stranger, who threw a coin in her lap, to worship the goddess.
Very similar customs existed in other parts of Western Asia, in North Africa,
in Cyprus, and other islands of the Eastern Mediterranean, and also in
Greece, where the temple of Aphrodite on the fort at Corinth possessed over
a thousand hierodules, dedicated to the service of the goddess.

"The theory that religious prostitution developed, as a general rule, out
of the belief that the generative activity of human beings possessed a
mysterious and sacred influence in promoting the fertility of Nature, is
maintained by all authoritative writers on the subject. Gradually, however,
and when prostitution became an organized institution under priestly
influence, religious prostitution developed utilitarian sides, thus helping to
increase public revenue.

"The rise of Christianity to political power produced little change in
policy. The leading fathers of the Church tolerated prostitution. Brothels
under municipal protection are found in the thirteenth century. They
constituted a sort of public service, the directors of them being considered
almost as public servants."[3]

To this must be added the following from Dr. Sanger's work:

"Pope Clement II. issued a bull that prostitutes would be tolerated if they
pay a certain amount of their earnings to the Church.

"Pope Sixtus IV. was more practical; from one single brothel, which he
himself had built, he received an income of 20,000 ducats."

In modern times the Church is a little more careful in that direction. At
least she does not openly demand tribute from prostitutes. She finds it much
more profitable to go in for real estate, like Trinity Church, for instance, to
rent out death traps at an exorbitant price to those who live off and by
prostitution.

Much as I should like to, my space will not admit speaking of
prostitution in Egypt, Greece, Rome, and during the Middle Ages. The
conditions in the latter period are particularly interesting, inasmuch as
prostitution was organized into guilds, presided over by a brothel Queen.
These guilds employed strikes as a medium of improving their condition
and keeping a standard price. Certainly that is more practical a method than
the one used by the modern wage slave in society.

It would be one-sided and extremely superficial to maintain that the
economic factor is the only cause of prostitution. There are others no less
important and vital. That, too, our reformers know, but dare discuss even
less than the institution that saps the very life out of both men and women. I
refer to the sex question, the very mention of which causes most people
moral spasms.

It is a conceded fact that woman is being reared as a sex commodity, and
yet she is kept in absolute ignorance of the meaning and importance of sex.
Everything dealing with the subject is suppressed, and persons who attempt
to bring light into this terrible darkness are persecuted and thrown into
prison. Yet it is nevertheless true that so long as a girl is not to know how to
take care of herself, not to know the function of the most important part of
her life, we need not be surprised if she becomes an easy prey to
prostitution, or to any other form of a relationship which degrades her to the
position of an object for mere sex gratification.

It is due to this ignorance that the entire life and nature of the girl is
thwarted and crippled. We have long ago taken it as a self-evident fact that
the boy may follow the call of the wild; that is to say, that the boy may, as
soon has his sex nature asserts itself, satisfy that nature; but our moralists
are scandalized at the very thought that the nature of a girl should assert
itself. To the moralist prostitution does not consist so much in the fact that
the woman sells her body, but rather that she sells it out of wedlock. That

this is no mere statement is proved by the fact that marriage for monetary
considerations is perfectly legitimate, sanctified by law and public opinion,
while any other union is condemned and repudiated. Yet a prostitute, if
properly defined, means nothing else than "any person for whom sexual
relationships are subordinated to gain."[4]

"Those women are prostitutes who sell their bodies for the exercise of
the sexual act and make of this a profession."[5]

In fact, Banger goes further; he maintains that the act of prostitution is
"intrinsically equal to that of a man or woman who contracts a marriage for
economic reasons."

Of course, marriage is the goal of every girl, but as thousands of girls
cannot marry, our stupid social customs condemn them either to a life of
celibacy or prostitution. Human nature asserts itself regardless of all laws,
nor is there any plausible reason why nature should adapt itself to a
perverted conception of morality.

Society considers the sex experiences of a man as attributes of his
general development, while similar experiences in the life of a woman are
looked upon as a terrible calamity, a loss of honor and of all that is good
and noble in a human being. This double standard of morality has played no
little part in the creation and perpetuation of prostitution. It involves the
keeping of the young in absolute ignorance on sex matters, which alleged
"innocence," together with an overwrought and stifled sex nature, helps to
bring about a state of affairs that our Puritans are so anxious to avoid or
prevent.

Not that the gratification of sex must needs lead to prostitution; it is the
cruel, heartless, criminal persecution of those who dare divert from the
beaten paths, which is responsible for it.

Girls, mere children, work in crowded, over-heated rooms ten to twelve
hours daily at a machine, which tends to keep them in a constant over-
excited sex state. Many of these girls have no home or comforts of any
kind; therefore the street or some place of cheap amusement is the only
means of forgetting their daily routine. This naturally brings them into close

proximity with the other sex. It is hard to say which of the two factors
brings the girl's over-sexed condition to a climax, but it is certainly the most
natural thing that a climax should result. That is the first step toward
prostitution. Nor is the girl to be held responsible for it. On the contrary, it
is altogether the fault of society, the fault of our lack of understanding, of
our lack of appreciation of life in the making; especially is it the criminal
fault of our moralists, who condemn a girl for all eternity, because she has
gone from the "path of virtue"; that is, because her first sex experience has
taken place without the sanction of the Church.

The girl feels herself a complete outcast, with the doors of home and
society closed in her face. Her entire training and tradition is such that the
girl herself feels depraved and fallen, and therefore has no ground to stand
upon, or any hold that will lift her up, instead of dragging her down. Thus
society creates the victims that it afterwards vainly attempts to get rid of.
The meanest, most depraved and decrepit man still considers himself too
good to take as his wife the woman whose grace he was quite willing to
buy, even though he might thereby save her from a life of horror. Nor can
she turn to her own sister for help. In her stupidity the latter deems herself
too pure and chaste, not realizing that her own position is in many respects
even more deplorable than her sister's of the street.

"The wife who married for money, compared with the prostitute," says
Havelock Ellis, "is the true scab. She is paid less, gives much more in return
in labor and care, and is absolutely bound to her master. The prostitute
never signs away the right over her own person, she retains her freedom and
personal rights, nor is she always compelled to submit to a man's embrace."

Nor does the better-than-thou woman realize the apologist claim of
Lecky that "though she may be the supreme type of vice, she is also the
most efficient guardian of virtue. But for her, happy homes would be
polluted, unnatural and harmful practice would abound."

Moralists are ever ready to sacrifice one-half of the human race for the
sake of some miserable institution which they can not outgrow. As a matter
of fact, prostitution is no more a safeguard for the purity of the home than
rigid laws are a safeguard against prostitution. Fully fifty per cent. of
married men are patrons of brothels. It is through this virtuous element that
the married women—nay, even the children—are infected with venereal
diseases. Yet society has not a word of condemnation for the man, while no
law is too monstrous to be set in motion against the helpless victim. She is
not only preyed upon by those who use her, but she is also absolutely at the
mercy of every policeman and miserable detective on the beat, the officials
at the station house, the authorities in every prison.

In a recent book by a woman who was for twelve years the mistress of a
"house," are to be found the following figures: "The authorities compelled
me to pay every month fines between $14.70 to $29.70, the girls would pay
from $5.70 to $9.70 to the police." Considering that the writer did her
business in a small city, that the amounts she gives do not include extra
bribes and fines, one can readily see the tremendous revenue the police
department derives from the blood money of its victims, whom it will not
even protect. Woe to those who refuse to pay their toll; they would be
rounded up like cattle, "if only to make a favorable impression upon the
good citizens of the city, or if the powers needed extra money on the side.
For the warped mind who believes that a fallen woman is incapable of
human emotion it would be impossible to realize the grief, the disgrace, the
tears, the wounded pride that was ours every time we were pulled in."

Strange, isn't it, that a woman who has a kept a "house" should be able to
feel that way? But stranger still that a good Christian world should bleed
and fleece such women, and give them nothing in return except obloquy
and persecution. Oh, for the charity of a Christian world!

Much stress is laid on white slaves being imported into America. How
would America ever retain her virtue if Europe did not help her out? I will
not deny that this may be the case in some instances, any more than I will
deny that there are emissaries of Germany and other countries luring
economic slaves into America; but I absolutely deny that prostitution is

recruited to any appreciable extent from Europe. It may be true that the
majority of prostitutes in New York City are foreigners, but that is because
the majority of the population is foreign. The moment we go to any other
American city, to Chicago or the Middle West, we shall find that the
number of foreign prostitutes is by far a minority.

Equally exaggerated is the belief that the majority of street girls in this
city were engaged in this business before they came to America. Most of
the girls speak excellent English, are Americanized in habits and
appearance,—a thing absolutely impossible unless they had lived in this
country many years. That is, they were driven into prostitution by American
conditions, by the thoroughly American custom for excessive display of
finery and clothes, which, of course, necessitates money,—money that
cannot be earned in shops or factories.

In other words, there is no reason to believe that any set of men would
go to the risk and expense of getting foreign products, when American
conditions are overflooding the market with thousands of girls. On the other
hand, there is sufficient evidence to prove that the export of American girls
for the purpose of prostitution is by no means a small factor.

Thus Clifford G. Roe, ex-Assistant State Attorney of Cook County, Ill.,
makes the open charge that New England girls are shipped to Panama for
the express use of men in the employ of Uncle Sam. Mr. Roe adds that
"there seems to be an underground railroad between Boston and
Washington which many girls travel." Is it not significant that the railroad
should lead to the very seat of Federal authority? That Mr. Roe said more
than was desired in certain quarters is proved by the fact that he lost his
position. It is not practical for men in office to tell tales from school.

The excuse given for the conditions in Panama is that there are no
brothels in the Canal Zone. That is the usual avenue of escape for a
hypocritical world that dares not face the truth. Not in the Canal Zone, not
in the city limits,—therefore prostitution does not exist.

Next to Mr. Roe, there is James Bronson Reynolds, who has made a
thorough study of the white slave traffic in Asia. As a staunch American
citizen and friend of the future Napoleon of America, Theodore Roosevelt,

he is surely the last to discredit the virtue of his country. Yet we are
informed by him that in Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Yokohama, the Augean
stables of American vice are located. There American prostitutes have made
themselves so conspicuous that in the Orient "American girl" is
synonymous with prostitute. Mr. Reynolds reminds his countrymen that
while Americans in China are under the protection of our consular
representatives, the Chinese in America have no protection at all. Every one
who knows the brutal and barbarous persecution Chinese and Japanese
endure on the Pacific Coast, will agree with Mr. Reynolds.

In view of the above facts it is rather absurd to point to Europe as the
swamp whence come all the social diseases of America. Just as absurd is it
to proclaim the myth that the Jews furnish the largest contingent of willing
prey. I am sure that no one will accuse me of nationalistic tendencies. I am
glad to say that I have developed out of them, as out of many other
prejudices. If, therefore, I resent the statement that Jewish prostitutes are
imported, it is not because of any Judaistic sympathies, but because of the
facts inherent in the lives of these people. No one but the most superficial
will claim that Jewish girls migrate to strange lands, unless they have some
tie or relation that brings them there. The Jewish girl is not adventurous.
Until recent years she had never left home, not even so far as the next
village or town, except it were to visit some relative. Is it then credible that
Jewish girls would leave their parents or families, travel thousands of miles
to strange lands, through the influence and promises of strange forces? Go
to any of the large incoming steamers and see for yourself if these girls do
not come either with their parents, brothers, aunts, or other kinsfolk. There
may be exceptions, of course, but to state that large numbers of Jewish girls
are imported for prostitution, or any other purpose, is simply not to know
Jewish psychology.

Those who sit in a glass house do wrong to throw stones about them;
besides, the American glass house is rather thin, it will break easily, and the
interior is anything but a gainly sight.

To ascribe the increase in prostitution to alleged importation, to the
growth of the cadet system, or similar causes, is highly superficial. I have
already referred to the former. As to the cadet system, abhorrent as it is, we

must not ignore the fact that it is essentially a phase of modern prostitution,
—a phase accentuated by suppression and graft, resulting from sporadic
crusades against the social evil.

The procurer is no doubt a poor specimen of the human family, but in
what manner is he more despicable than the policeman who takes the last
cent from the street walker, and then locks her up in the station house? Why
is the cadet more criminal, or a greater menace to society, than the owners
of department stores and factories, who grow fat on the sweat of their
victims, only to drive them to the streets? I make no plea for the cadet, but I
fail to see why he should be mercilessly hounded, while the real
perpetrators of all social iniquity enjoy immunity and respect. Then, too, it
is well to remember that it is not the cadet who makes the prostitute. It is
our sham and hypocrisy that create both the prostitute and the cadet.

Until 1894 very little was known in America of the procurer. Then we
were attacked by an epidemic of virtue. Vice was to be abolished, the
country purified at all cost. The social cancer was therefore driven out of
sight, but deeper into the body. Keepers of brothels, as well as their
unfortunate victims, were turned over to the tender mercies of the police.
The inevitable consequence of exorbitant bribes, and the penitentiary,
followed.

While comparatively protected in the brothels, where they represented a
certain monetary value, the girls now found themselves on the street,
absolutely at the mercy of the graft-greedy police. Desperate, needing
protection and longing for affection, these girls naturally proved an easy
prey for cadets, themselves the result of the spirit of our commercial age.
Thus the cadet system was the direct outgrowth of police persecution, graft,
and attempted suppression of prostitution. It were sheer folly to confound
this modern phase of the social evil with the causes of the latter.

Mere suppression and barbaric enactments can serve but to embitter, and
further degrade, the unfortunate victims of ignorance and stupidity. The
latter has reached its highest expression in the proposed law to make
humane treatment of prostitutes a crime, punishing any one sheltering a
prostitute with five years' imprisonment and $10,000 fine. Such an attitude
merely exposes the terrible lack of understanding of the true causes of

prostitution, as a social factor, as well as manifesting the Puritanic spirit of
the Scarlet Letter days.

There is not a single modern writer on the subject who does not refer to
the utter futility of legislative methods in coping with the issue. Thus Dr.
Blaschko finds that governmental suppression and moral crusades
accomplish nothing save driving the evil into secret channels, multiplying
its dangers to society. Havelock Ellis, the most thorough and humane
student of prostitution, proves by a wealth of data that the more stringent
the methods of persecution the worse the condition becomes. Among other
data we learn that in France, "in 1560, Charles IX. abolished brothels
through an edict, but the numbers of prostitutes were only increased, while
many new brothels appeared in unsuspected shapes, and were more
dangerous. In spite of all such legislation, OR BECAUSE OF IT, there has
been no country in which prostitution has played a more conspicuous part."
[6]

An educated public opinion, freed from the legal and moral hounding of
the prostitute, can alone help to ameliorate present conditions. Wilful
shutting of eyes and ignoring of the evil as a social factor of modern life,
can but aggravate matters. We must rise above our foolish notions of "better
than thou," and learn to recognize in the prostitute a product of social
conditions. Such a realization will sweep away the attitude of hypocrisy,
and insure a greater understanding and more humane treatment. As to a
thorough eradication of prostitution, nothing can accomplish that save a
complete transvaluation of all accepted values—especially the moral ones
—coupled with the abolition of industrial slavery.

[1] Dr. Sanger, THE HISTORY OF PROSTITUTION.

[2] It is a significant fact that Dr. Sanger's book has been excluded from the U. S. mails.
Evidently the authorities are not anxious that the public be informed as to the true cause of
prostitution.

[3] Havelock Ellis, SEX AND SOCIETY.

[4] Guyot, LA PROSTITUTION.

[5] Banger, CRIMINALITE ET CONDITION ECONOMIQUE.

[6] SEX AND SOCIETY.

WOMAN SUFFRAGE

We boast of the age of advancement, of science, and progress. Is it not
strange, then, that we still believe in fetich worship? True, our fetiches have
different form and substance, yet in their power over the human mind they
are still as disastrous as were those of old.

Our modern fetich is universal suffrage. Those who have not yet
achieved that goal fight bloody revolutions to obtain it, and those who have
enjoyed its reign bring heavy sacrifice to the altar of this omnipotent deity.
Woe to the heretic who dare question that divinity!

Woman, even more than man, is a fetich worshipper, and though her
idols may change, she is ever on her knees, ever holding up her hands, ever
blind to the fact that her god has feet of clay. Thus woman has been the
greatest supporter of all deities from time immemorial. Thus, too, she has
had to pay the price that only gods can exact,—her freedom, her heart's
blood, her very life.

Nietzsche's memorable maxim, "When you go to woman, take the whip
along," is considered very brutal, yet Nietzsche expressed in one sentence
the attitude of woman towards her gods.

Religion, especially the Christian religion, has condemned woman to the
life of an inferior, a slave. It has thwarted her nature and fettered her soul,
yet the Christian religion has no greater supporter, none more devout, than
woman. Indeed, it is safe to say that religion would have long ceased to be a
factor in the lives of the people, if it were not for the support it receives
from woman. The most ardent churchworkers, the most tireless
missionaries the world over, are women, always sacrificing on the altar of
the gods that have chained her spirit and enslaved her body.

The insatiable monster, war, robs woman of all that is dear and precious
to her. It exacts her brothers, lovers, sons, and in return gives her a life of
loneliness and despair. Yet the greatest supporter and worshiper of war is
woman. She it is who instills the love of conquest and power into her
children; she it is who whispers the glories of war into the ears of her little
ones, and who rocks her baby to sleep with the tunes of trumpets and the
noise of guns. It is woman, too, who crowns the victor on his return from
the battlefield. Yes, it is woman who pays the highest price to that insatiable
monster, war.

Then there is the home. What a terrible fetich it is! How it saps the very
life-energy of woman,—this modern prison with golden bars. Its shining
aspect blinds woman to the price she would have to pay as wife, mother,
and housekeeper. Yet woman clings tenaciously to the home, to the power
that holds her in bondage.

It may be said that because woman recognizes the awful toll she is made
to pay to the Church, State, and the home, she wants suffrage to set herself
free. That may be true of the few; the majority of suffragists repudiate
utterly such blasphemy. On the contrary, they insist always that it is woman
suffrage which will make her a better Christian and homekeeper, a staunch
citizen of the State. Thus suffrage is only a means of strengthening the
omnipotence of the very Gods that woman has served from time
immemorial.

What wonder, then, that she should be just as devout, just as zealous, just
as prostrate before the new idol, woman suffrage. As of old, she endures
persecution, imprisonment, torture, and all forms of condemnation, with a
smile on her face. As of old, the most enlightened, even, hope for a miracle
from the twentieth century deity,—suffrage. Life, happiness, joy, freedom,
independence,—all that, and more, is to spring from suffrage. In her blind
devotion woman does not see what people of intellect perceived fifty years
ago: that suffrage is an evil, that it has only helped to enslave people, that it
has but closed their eyes that they may not see how craftily they were made
to submit.

Woman's demand for equal suffrage is based largely on the contention
that woman must have the equal right in all affairs of society. No one could,
possibly, refute that, if suffrage were a right. Alas, for the ignorance of the
human mind, which can see a right in an imposition. Or is it not the most
brutal imposition for one set of people to make laws that another set is
coerced by force to obey? Yet woman clamors for that "golden opportunity"
that has wrought so much misery in the world, and robbed man of his
integrity and self-reliance; an imposition which has thoroughly corrupted
the people, and made them absolute prey in the hands of unscrupulous
politicians.

The poor, stupid, free American citizen! Free to starve, free to tramp the
highways of this great country, he enjoys universal suffrage, and, by that
right, he has forged chains about his limbs. The reward that he receives is
stringent labor laws prohibiting the right of boycott, of picketing, in fact, of
everything, except the right to be robbed of the fruits of his labor. Yet all
these disastrous results of the twentieth century fetich have taught woman
nothing. But, then, woman will purify politics, we are assured.

Needless to say, I am not opposed to woman suffrage on the
conventional ground that she is not equal to it. I see neither physical,
psychological, nor mental reasons why woman should not have the equal
right to vote with man. But that can not possibly blind me to the absurd
notion that woman will accomplish that wherein man has failed. If she
would not make things worse, she certainly could not make them better. To
assume, therefore, that she would succeed in purifying something which is

not susceptible of purification, is to credit her with supernatural powers.
Since woman's greatest misfortune has been that she was looked upon as
either angel or devil, her true salvation lies in being placed on earth;
namely, in being considered human, and therefore subject to all human
follies and mistakes. Are we, then, to believe that two errors will make a
right? Are we to assume that the poison already inherent in politics will be
decreased, if women were to enter the political arena? The most ardent
suffragists would hardly maintain such a folly.

As a matter of fact, the most advanced students of universal suffrage
have come to realize that all existing systems of political power are absurd,
and are completely inadequate to meet the pressing issues of life. This view
is also borne out by a statement of one who is herself an ardent believer in
woman suffrage, Dr. Helen L. Sumner. In her able work on EQUAL
SUFFRAGE, she says: "In Colorado, we find that equal suffrage serves to
show in the most striking way the essential rottenness and degrading
character of the existing system." Of course, Dr. Sumner has in mind a
particular system of voting, but the same applies with equal force to the
entire machinery of the representative system. With such a basis, it is
difficult to understand how woman, as a political factor, would benefit
either herself or the rest of mankind.

But, say our suffrage devotees, look at the countries and States where
female suffrage exists. See what woman has accomplished—in Australia,
New Zealand, Finland, the Scandinavian countries, and in our own four
States, Idaho, Colorado, Wyoming, and Utah. Distance lends enchantment
—or, to quote a Polish formula—"it is well where we are not." Thus one
would assume that those countries and States are unlike other countries or
States, that they have greater freedom, greater social and economic equality,
a finer appreciation of human life, deeper understanding of the great social
struggle, with all the vital questions it involves for the human race.

The women of Australia and New Zealand can vote, and help make the
laws. Are the labor conditions better there than they are in England, where
the suffragettes are making such a heroic struggle? Does there exist a
greater motherhood, happier and freer children than in England? Is woman
there no longer considered a mere sex commodity? Has she emancipated

herself from the Puritanical double standard of morality for men and
women? Certainly none but the ordinary female stump politician will dare
answer these questions in the affirmative. If that be so, it seems ridiculous
to point to Australia and New Zealand as the Mecca of equal suffrage
accomplishments.

On the other hand, it is a fact to those who know the real political
conditions in Australia, that politics have gagged labor by enacting the most
stringent labor laws, making strikes without the sanction of an arbitration
committee a crime equal to treason.

Not for a moment do I mean to imply that woman suffrage is responsible
for this state of affairs. I do mean, however, that there is no reason to point
to Australia as a wonder-worker of woman's accomplishment, since her
influence has been unable to free labor from the thralldom of political
bossism.

Finland has given woman equal suffrage; nay, even the right to sit in
Parliament. Has that helped to develop a greater heroism, an intenser zeal
than that of the women of Russia? Finland, like Russia, smarts under the
terrible whip of the bloody Tsar. Where are the Finnish Perovskaias,
Spiridonovas, Figners, Breshkovskaias? Where are the countless numbers
of Finnish young girls who cheerfully go to Siberia for their cause? Finland
is sadly in need of heroic liberators. Why has the ballot not created them?
The only Finnish avenger of his people was a man, not a woman, and he
used a more effective weapon than the ballot.

As to our own States where women vote, and which are constantly being
pointed out as examples of marvels, what has been accomplished there
through the ballot that women do not to a large extent enjoy in other States;
or that they could not achieve through energetic efforts without the ballot?

True, in the suffrage States women are guaranteed equal rights to
property; but of what avail is that right to the mass of women without
property, the thousands of wage workers, who live from hand to mouth?
That equal suffrage did not, and cannot, affect their condition is admitted
even by Dr. Sumner, who certainly is in a position to know. As an ardent
suffragist, and having been sent to Colorado by the Collegiate Equal

Suffrage League of New York State to collect material in favor of suffrage,
she would be the last to say anything derogatory; yet we are informed that
"equal suffrage has but slightly affected the economic conditions of women.
That women do not receive equal pay for equal work, and that, though
woman in Colorado has enjoyed school suffrage since 1876, women
teachers are paid less than in California." On the other hand, Miss Sumner
fails to account for the fact that although women have had school suffrage
for thirty-four years, and equal suffrage since 1894, the census in Denver
alone a few months ago disclosed the fact of fifteen thousand defective
school children. And that, too, with mostly women in the educational
department, and also notwithstanding that women in Colorado have passed
the "most stringent laws for child and animal protection." The women of
Colorado "have taken great interest in the State institutions for the care of
dependent, defective, and delinquent children." What a horrible indictment
against woman's care and interest, if one city has fifteen thousand defective
children. What about the glory of woman suffrage, since it has failed utterly
in the most important social issue, the child? And where is the superior
sense of justice that woman was to bring into the political field? Where was
it in 1903, when the mine owners waged a guerilla war against the Western
Miners' Union; when General Bell established a reign of terror, pulling men
out of beds at night, kidnapping them across the border line, throwing them
into bull pens, declaring "to hell with the Constitution, the club is the
Constitution"? Where were the women politicians then, and why did they
not exercise the power of their vote? But they did. They helped to defeat the
most fair-minded and liberal man, Governor Waite. The latter had to make
way for the tool of the mine kings, Governor Peabody, the enemy of labor,
the Tsar of Colorado. "Certainly male suffrage could have done nothing
worse." Granted. Wherein, then, are the advantages to woman and society
from woman suffrage? The oft-repeated assertion that woman will purify
politics is also but a myth. It is not borne out by the people who know the
political conditions of Idaho, Colorado, Wyoming, and Utah.

Woman, essentially a purist, is naturally bigotted and relentless in her
effort to make others as good as she thinks they ought to be. Thus, in Idaho,
she has disfranchised her sister of the street, and declared all women of
"lewd character" unfit to vote. "Lewd" not being interpreted, of course, as
prostitution IN marriage. It goes without saying that illegal prostitution and

gambling have been prohibited. In this regard the law must needs be of
feminine nature: it always prohibits. Therein all laws are wonderful. They
go no further, but their very tendencies open all the floodgates of hell.
Prostitution and gambling have never done a more flourishing business than
since the law has been set against them.

In Colorado, the Puritanism of woman has expressed itself in a more
drastic form. "Men of notoriously unclean lives, and men connected with
saloons, have been dropped from politics since women have the vote."[1]
Could brother Comstock do more? Could all the Puritan fathers have done
more? I wonder how many women realize the gravity of this would-be feat.
I wonder if they understand that it is the very thing which, instead of
elevating woman, has made her a political spy, a contemptible pry into the
private affairs of people, not so much for the good of the cause, but
because, as a Colorado woman said, "they like to get into houses they have
never been in, and find out all they can, politically and otherwise."[2] Yes,
and into the human soul and its minutest nooks and corners. For nothing
satisfies the craving of most women so much as scandal. And when did she
ever enjoy such opportunities as are hers, the politician's?

"Notoriously unclean lives, and men connected with the saloons."
Certainly, the lady vote gatherers can not be accused of much sense of
proportion. Granting even that these busybodies can decide whose lives are
clean enough for that eminently clean atmosphere, politics, must it follow
that saloon-keepers belong to the same category? Unless it be American
hypocrisy and bigotry, so manifest in the principle of Prohibition, which
sanctions the spread of drunkenness among men and women of the rich
class, yet keeps vigilant watch on the only place left to the poor man. If no
other reason, woman's narrow and purist attitude toward life makes her a
greater danger to liberty wherever she has political power. Man has long
overcome the superstitions that still engulf woman. In the economic
competitive field, man has been compelled to exercise efficiency, judgment,
ability, competency. He therefore had neither time nor inclination to
measure everyone's morality with a Puritanic yardstick. In his political
activities, too, he has not gone about blindfolded. He knows that quantity
and not quality is the material for the political grinding mill, and, unless he

is a sentimental reformer or an old fossil, he knows that politics can never
be anything but a swamp.

Women who are at all conversant with the process of politics, know the
nature of the beast, but in their self-sufficiency and egotism they make
themselves believe that they have but to pet the beast, and he will become
as gentle as a lamb, sweet and pure. As if women have not sold their votes,
as if women politicians can not be bought! If her body can be bought in
return for material consideration, why not her vote? That it is being done in
Colorado and in other States, is not denied even by those in favor of woman
suffrage.

As I have said before, woman's narrow view of human affairs is not the
only argument against her as a politician superior to man. There are others.
Her life-long economic parasitism has utterly blurred her conception of the
meaning of equality. She clamors for equal rights with men, yet we learn
that "few women care to canvas in undesirable districts."[3] How little
equality means to them compared with the Russian women, who face hell
itself for their ideal!

Woman demands the same rights as man, yet she is indignant that her
presence does not strike him dead: he smokes, keeps his hat on, and does
not jump from his seat like a flunkey. These may be trivial things, but they
are nevertheless the key to the nature of American suffragists. To be sure,
their English sisters have outgrown these silly notions. They have shown
themselves equal to the greatest demands on their character and power of
endurance. All honor to the heroism and sturdiness of the English
suffragettes. Thanks to their energetic, aggressive methods, they have
proved an inspiration to some of our own lifeless and spineless ladies. But
after all, the suffragettes, too, are still lacking in appreciation of real
equality. Else how is one to account for the tremendous, truly gigantic effort
set in motion by those valiant fighters for a wretched little bill which will
benefit a handful of propertied ladies, with absolutely no provision for the
vast mass of workingwomen? True, as politicians they must be
opportunists, must take half measures if they can not get all. But as
intelligent and liberal women they ought to realize that if the ballot is a
weapon, the disinherited need it more than the economically superior class,

and that the latter already enjoy too much power by virtue of their economic
superiority.

The brilliant leader of the English suffragettes, Mrs. Emmeline
Pankhurst, herself admitted, when on her American lecture tour, that there
can be no equality between political superiors and inferiors. If so, how will
the workingwoman of England, already inferior economically to the ladies
who are benefited by the Shackleton bill,[4] be able to work with their
political superiors, should the bill pass? Is it not probable that the class of
Annie Keeney, so full of zeal, devotion, and martyrdom, will be compelled
to carry on their backs their female political bosses, even as they are
carrying their economic masters. They would still have to do it, were
universal suffrage for men and women established in England. No matter
what the workers do, they are made to pay, always. Still, those who believe
in the power of the vote show little sense of justice when they concern
themselves not at all with those whom, as they claim, it might serve most.

The American suffrage movement has been, until very recently,
altogether a parlor affair, absolutely detached from the economic needs of
the people. Thus Susan B. Anthony, no doubt an exceptional type of
woman, was not only indifferent but antagonistic to labor; nor did she
hesitate to manifest her antagonism when, in 1869, she advised women to
take the places of striking printers in New York.[5] I do not know whether
her attitude had changed before her death.

There are, of course, some suffragists who are affiliated with
workingwomen—the Women's Trade Union League, for instance; but they
are a small minority, and their activities are essentially economic. The rest
look upon toil as a just provision of Providence. What would become of the
rich, if not for the poor? What would become of these idle, parasitic ladies,
who squander more in a week than their victims earn in a year, if not for the
eighty million wage workers? Equality, who ever heard of such a thing?

Few countries have produced such arrogance and snobbishness as
America. Particularly this is true of the American woman of the middle
class. She not only considers herself the equal of man, but his superior,
especially in her purity, goodness, and morality. Small wonder that the
American suffragist claims for her vote the most miraculous powers. In her

exalted conceit she does not see how truly enslaved she is, not so much by
man, as by her own silly notions and traditions. Suffrage can not ameliorate
that sad fact; it can only accentuate it, as indeed it does.

One of the great American women leaders claims that woman is entitled
not only to equal pay, but that she ought to be legally entitled even to the
pay of her husband. Failing to support her, he should be put in convict
stripes, and his earnings in prison be collected by his equal wife. Does not
another brilliant exponent of the cause claim for woman that her vote will
abolish the social evil, which has been fought in vain by the collective
efforts of the most illustrious minds the world over? It is indeed to be
regretted that the alleged creator of the universe has already presented us
with his wonderful scheme of things, else woman suffrage would surely
enable woman to outdo him completely.

Nothing is so dangerous as the dissection of a fetich. If we have outlived
the time when such heresy was punishable at the stake, we have not
outlived the narrow spirit of condemnation of those who dare differ with
accepted notions. Therefore I shall probably be put down as an opponent of
woman. But that can not deter me from looking the question squarely in the
face. I repeat what I have said in the beginning: I do not believe that woman
will make politics worse; nor can I believe that she could make it better. If,
then, she cannot improve on man's mistakes, why perpetuate the latter?

History may be a compilation of lies; nevertheless, it contains a few
truths, and they are the only guide we have for the future. The history of the
political activities of men proves that they have given him absolutely
nothing that he could not have achieved in a more direct, less costly, and
more lasting manner. As a matter of fact, every inch of ground he has
gained has been through a constant fight, a ceaseless struggle for self-
assertion, and not through suffrage. There is no reason whatever to assume
that woman, in her climb to emancipation, has been, or will be, helped by
the ballot.

In the darkest of all countries, Russia, with her absolute despotism,
woman has become man's equal, not through the ballot, but by her will to
be and to do. Not only has she conquered for herself every avenue of
learning and vocation, but she has won man's esteem, his respect, his

comradeship; aye, even more than that: she has gained the admiration, the
respect of the whole world. That, too, not through suffrage, but by her
wonderful heroism, her fortitude, her ability, will power, and her endurance
in the struggle for liberty. Where are the women in any suffrage country or
State that can lay claim to such a victory? When we consider the
accomplishments of woman in America, we find also that something deeper
and more powerful than suffrage has helped her in the march to
emancipation.

It is just sixty-two years ago since a handful of women at the Seneca
Falls Convention set forth a few demands for their right to equal education
with men, and access to the various professions, trades, etc. What
wonderful accomplishment, what wonderful triumphs! Who but the most
ignorant dare speak of woman as a mere domestic drudge? Who dare
suggest that this or that profession should not be open to her? For over sixty
years she has molded a new atmosphere and a new life for herself. She has
become a world power in every domain of human thought and activity. And
all that without suffrage, without the right to make laws, without the
"privilege" of becoming a judge, a jailer, or an executioner.

Yes, I may be considered an enemy of woman; but if I can help her see
the light, I shall not complain.

The misfortune of woman is not that she is unable to do the work of
man, but that she is wasting her life force to outdo him, with a tradition of
centuries which has left her physically incapable of keeping pace with him.
Oh, I know some have succeeded, but at what cost, at what terrific cost!
The import is not the kind of work woman does, but rather the quality of the
work she furnishes. She can give suffrage or the ballot no new quality, nor
can she receive anything from it that will enhance her own quality. Her
development, her freedom, her independence, must come from and through
herself. First, by asserting herself as a personality, and not as a sex
commodity. Second, by refusing the right to anyone over her body; by
refusing to bear children, unless she wants them; by refusing to be a servant
to God, the State, society, the husband, the family, etc.; by making her life
simpler, but deeper and richer. That is, by trying to learn the meaning and
substance of life in all its complexities, by freeing herself from the fear of

public opinion and public condemnation. Only that, and not the ballot, will
set woman free, will make her a force hitherto unknown in the world, a
force for real love, for peace, for harmony; a force of divine fire, of life
giving; a creator of free men and women.

[1] EQUAL SUFFRAGE. Dr. Helen Sumner.

[2] EQUAL SUFFRAGE.

[3] Dr. Helen A. Sumner.

[4] Mr. Shackleton was a labor leader. It is therefore self-evident that he should introduce a bill
excluding his own constituents. The English Parliament is full of such Judases.

[5] EQUAL SUFFRAGE. Dr. Helen A. Sumner.

THE TRAGEDY OF WOMAN'S EMANCIPATION

I begin with an admission: Regardless of all political and economic
theories, treating of the fundamental differences between various groups
within the human race, regardless of class and race distinctions, regardless
of all artificial boundary lines between woman's rights and man's rights, I
hold that there is a point where these differentiations may meet and grow
into one perfect whole.

With this I do not mean to propose a peace treaty. The general social
antagonism which has taken hold of our entire public life today, brought
about through the force of opposing and contradictory interests, will
crumble to pieces when the reorganization of our social life, based upon the
principles of economic justice, shall have become a reality.

Peace or harmony between the sexes and individuals does not
necessarily depend on a superficial equalization of human beings; nor does

it call for the elimination of individual traits and peculiarities. The problem
that confronts us today, and which the nearest future is to solve, is how to
be one's self and yet in oneness with others, to feel deeply with all human
beings and still retain one's own characteristic qualities. This seems to me to
be the basis upon which the mass and the individual, the true democrat and
the true individuality, man and woman, can meet without antagonism and
opposition. The motto should not be: Forgive one another; rather,
Understand one another. The oft-quoted sentence of Madame de Stael: "To
understand everything means to forgive everything," has never particularly
appealed to me; it has the odor of the confessional; to forgive one's fellow-
being conveys the idea of pharisaical superiority. To understand one's
fellow-being suffices. The admission partly represents the fundamental
aspect of my views on the emancipation of woman and its effect upon the
entire sex.

Emancipation should make it possible for woman to be human in the
truest sense. Everything within her that craves assertion and activity should
reach its fullest expression; all artificial barriers should be broken, and the
road towards greater freedom cleared of every trace of centuries of
submission and slavery.

This was the original aim of the movement for woman's emancipation.
But the results so far achieved have isolated woman and have robbed her of
the fountain springs of that happiness which is so essential to her. Merely
external emancipation has made of the modern woman an artificial being,
who reminds one of the products of French arboriculture with its arabesque
trees and shrubs, pyramids, wheels, and wreaths; anything, except the forms
which would be reached by the expression of her own inner qualities. Such
artificially grown plants of the female sex are to be found in large numbers,
especially in the so-called intellectual sphere of our life.

Liberty and equality for woman! What hopes and aspirations these words
awakened when they were first uttered by some of the noblest and bravest
souls of those days. The sun in all his light and glory was to rise upon a new
world; in this world woman was to be free to direct her own destiny—an
aim certainly worthy of the great enthusiasm, courage, perseverance, and

ceaseless effort of the tremendous host of pioneer men and women, who
staked everything against a world of prejudice and ignorance.

My hopes also move towards that goal, but I hold that the emancipation
of woman, as interpreted and practically applied today, has failed to reach
that great end. Now, woman is confronted with the necessity of
emancipating herself from emancipation, if she really desires to be free.
This may sound paradoxical, but is, nevertheless, only too true.

What has she achieved through her emancipation? Equal suffrage in a
few States. Has that purified our political life, as many well-meaning
advocates predicted? Certainly not. Incidentally, it is really time that
persons with plain, sound judgment should cease to talk about corruption in
politics in a boarding-school tone. Corruption of politics has nothing to do
with the morals, or the laxity of morals, of various political personalities. Its
cause is altogether a material one. Politics is the reflex of the business and
industrial world, the mottos of which are: "To take is more blessed than to
give"; "buy cheap and sell dear"; "one soiled hand washes the other." There
is no hope even that woman, with her right to vote, will ever purify politics.

Emancipation has brought woman economic equality with man; that is,
she can choose her own profession and trade; but as her past and present
physical training has not equipped her with the necessary strength to
compete with man, she is often compelled to exhaust all her energy, use up
her vitality, and strain every nerve in order to reach the market value. Very
few ever succeed, for it is a fact that women teachers, doctors, lawyers,
architects, and engineers are neither met with the same confidence as their
male colleagues, nor receive equal remuneration. And those that do reach
that enticing equality, generally do so at the expense of their physical and
psychical well-being. As to the great mass of working girls and women,
how much independence is gained if the narrowness and lack of freedom of
the home is exchanged for the narrowness and lack of freedom of the
factory, sweat-shop, department store, or office? In addition is the burden
which is laid on many women of looking after a "home, sweet home"—
cold, dreary, disorderly, uninviting—after a day's hard work. Glorious
independence! No wonder that hundreds of girls are willing to accept the
first offer of marriage, sick and tired of their "independence" behind the

counter, at the sewing or typewriting machine. They are just as ready to
marry as girls of the middle class, who long to throw off the yoke of
parental supremacy. A so-called independence which leads only to earning
the merest subsistence is not so enticing, not so ideal, that one could expect
woman to sacrifice everything for it. Our highly praised independence is,
after all, but a slow process of dulling and stifling woman's nature, her love
instinct, and her mother instinct.

Nevertheless, the position of the working girl is far more natural and
human than that of her seemingly more fortunate sister in the more cultured
professional walks of life—teachers, physicians, lawyers, engineers, etc.,
who have to make a dignified, proper appearance, while the inner life is
growing empty and dead.

The narrowness of the existing conception of woman's independence and
emancipation; the dread of love for a man who is not her social equal; the
fear that love will rob her of her freedom and independence; the horror that
love or the joy of motherhood will only hinder her in the full exercise of her
profession—all these together make of the emancipated modern woman a
compulsory vestal, before whom life, with its great clarifying sorrows and
its deep, entrancing joys, rolls on without touching or gripping her soul.

Emancipation, as understood by the majority of its adherents and
exponents, is of too narrow a scope to permit the boundless love and
ecstasy contained in the deep emotion of the true woman, sweetheart,
mother, in freedom.

The tragedy of the self-supporting or economically free woman does not
lie in too many but in too few experiences. True, she surpasses her sister of
past generations in knowledge of the world and human nature; it is just
because of this that she feels deeply the lack of life's essence, which alone
can enrich the human soul, and without which the majority of women have
become mere professional automatons.

That such a state of affairs was bound to come was foreseen by those
who realized that, in the domain of ethics, there still remained many
decaying ruins of the time of the undisputed superiority of man; ruins that
are still considered useful. And, what is more important, a goodly number

of the emancipated are unable to get along without them. Every movement
that aims at the destruction of existing institutions and the replacement
thereof with something more advanced, more perfect, has followers who in
theory stand for the most radical ideas, but who, nevertheless, in their
every-day practice, are like the average Philistine, feigning respectability
and clamoring for the good opinion of their opponents. There are, for
example, Socialists, and even Anarchists, who stand for the idea that
property is robbery, yet who will grow indignant if anyone owe them the
value of a half-dozen pins.

The same Philistine can be found in the movement for woman's
emancipation. Yellow journalists and milk-and-water litterateurs have
painted pictures of the emancipated woman that make the hair of the good
citizen and his dull companion stand up on end. Every member of the
woman's rights movement was pictured as a George Sand in her absolute
disregard of morality. Nothing was sacred to her. She had no respect for the
ideal relation between man and woman. In short, emancipation stood only
for a reckless life of lust and sin; regardless of society, religion, and
morality. The exponents of woman's rights were highly indignant at such
representation, and, lacking humor, they exerted all their energy to prove
that they were not at all as bad as they were painted, but the very reverse.
Of course, as long as woman was the slave of man, she could not be good
and pure, but now that she was free and independent she would prove how
good she could be and that her influence would have a purifying effect on
all institutions in society. True, the movement for woman's rights has
broken many old fetters, but it has also forged new ones. The great
movement of TRUE emancipation has not met with a great race of women
who could look liberty in the face. Their narrow, Puritanical vision banished
man, as a disturber and doubtful character, out of their emotional life. Man
was not to be tolerated at any price, except perhaps as the father of a child,
since a child could not very well come to life without a father. Fortunately,
the most rigid Puritans never will be strong enough to kill the innate craving
for motherhood. But woman's freedom is closely allied with man's freedom,
and many of my so-called emancipated sisters seem to overlook the fact
that a child born in freedom needs the love and devotion of each human
being about him, man as well as woman. Unfortunately, it is this narrow

conception of human relations that has brought about a great tragedy in the
lives of the modern man and woman.

About fifteen years ago appeared a work from the pen of the brilliant
Norwegian, Laura Marholm, called WOMAN, A CHARACTER STUDY.
She was one of the first to call attention to the emptiness and narrowness of
the existing conception of woman's emancipation, and its tragic effect upon
the inner life of woman. In her work Laura Marholm speaks of the fate of
several gifted women of international fame: the genius, Eleonora Duse; the
great mathematician and writer, Sonya Kovalevskaia; the artist and poet-
nature, Marie Bashkirtzeff, who died so young. Through each description of
the lives of these women of such extraordinary mentality runs a marked
trail of unsatisfied craving for a full, rounded, complete, and beautiful life,
and the unrest and loneliness resulting from the lack of it. Through these
masterly psychological sketches, one cannot help but see that the higher the
mental development of woman, the less possible it is for her to meet a
congenial mate who will see in her, not only sex, but also the human being,
the friend, the comrade and strong individuality, who cannot and ought not
lose a single trait of her character.

The average man with his self-sufficiency, his ridiculously superior airs
of patronage towards the female sex, is an impossibility for woman as
depicted in the CHARACTER STUDY by Laura Marholm. Equally
impossible for her is the man who can see in her nothing more than her
mentality and her genius, and who fails to awaken her woman nature.

A rich intellect and a fine soul are usually considered necessary
attributes of a deep and beautiful personality. In the case of the modern
woman, these attributes serve as a hindrance to the complete assertion of
her being. For over a hundred years the old form of marriage, based on the
Bible, "till death doth part," has been denounced as an institution that stands
for the sovereignty of the man over the woman, of her complete submission
to his whims and commands, and absolute dependence on his name and
support. Time and again it has been conclusively proved that the old
matrimonial relation restricted woman to the function of a man's servant
and the bearer of his children. And yet we find many emancipated women
who prefer marriage, with all its deficiencies, to the narrowness of an

unmarried life; narrow and unendurable because of the chains of moral and
social prejudice that cramp and bind her nature.

The explanation of such inconsistency on the part of many advanced
women is to be found in the fact that they never truly understood the
meaning of emancipation. They thought that all that was needed was
independence from external tyrannies; the internal tyrants, far more harmful
to life and growth—ethical and social conventions—were left to take care
of themselves; and they have taken care of themselves. They seem to get
along as beautifully in the heads and hearts of the most active exponents of
woman's emancipation, as in the heads and hearts of our grandmothers.

These internal tyrants, whether they be in the form of public opinion or
what will mother say, or brother, father, aunt, or relative of any sort; what
will Mrs. Grundy, Mr. Comstock, the employer, the Board of Education
say? All these busybodies, moral detectives, jailers of the human spirit,
what will they say? Until woman has learned to defy them all, to stand
firmly on her own ground and to insist upon her own unrestricted freedom,
to listen to the voice of her nature, whether it call for life's greatest treasure,
love for a man, or her most glorious privilege, the right to give birth to a
child, she cannot call herself emancipated. How many emancipated women
are brave enough to acknowledge that the voice of love is calling, wildly
beating against their breasts, demanding to be heard, to be satisfied.

The French writer, Jean Reibrach, in one of his novels, NEW BEAUTY,
attempts to picture the ideal, beautiful, emancipated woman. This ideal is
embodied in a young girl, a physician. She talks very cleverly and wisely of
how to feed infants; she is kind, and administers medicines free to poor
mothers. She converses with a young man of her acquaintance about the
sanitary conditions of the future, and how various bacilli and germs shall be
exterminated by the use of stone walls and floors, and by the doing away
with rugs and hangings. She is, of course, very plainly and practically
dressed, mostly in black. The young man, who, at their first meeting, was
overawed by the wisdom of his emancipated friend, gradually learns to
understand her, and recognizes one fine day that he loves her. They are
young, and she is kind and beautiful, and though always in rigid attire, her
appearance is softened by a spotlessly clean white collar and cuffs. One

would expect that he would tell her of his love, but he is not one to commit
romantic absurdities. Poetry and the enthusiasm of love cover their blushing
faces before the pure beauty of the lady. He silences the voice of his nature,
and remains correct. She, too, is always exact, always rational, always well
behaved. I fear if they had formed a union, the young man would have
risked freezing to death. I must confess that I can see nothing beautiful in
this new beauty, who is as cold as the stone walls and floors she dreams of.
Rather would I have the love songs of romantic ages, rather Don Juan and
Madame Venus, rather an elopement by ladder and rope on a moonlight
night, followed by the father's curse, mother's moans, and the moral
comments of neighbors, than correctness and propriety measured by
yardsticks. If love does not know how to give and take without restrictions,
it is not love, but a transaction that never fails to lay stress on a plus and a
minus.

The greatest shortcoming of the emancipation of the present day lies in
its artificial stiffness and its narrow respectabilities, which produce an
emptiness in woman's soul that will not let her drink from the fountain of
life. I once remarked that there seemed to be a deeper relationship between
the old-fashioned mother and hostess, ever on the alert for the happiness of
her little ones and the comfort of those she loved, and the truly new woman,
than between the latter and her average emancipated sister. The disciples of
emancipation pure and simple declared me a heathen, fit only for the stake.
Their blind zeal did not let them see that my comparison between the old
and the new was merely to prove that a goodly number of our grandmothers
had more blood in their veins, far more humor and wit, and certainly a
greater amount of naturalness, kind-heartedness, and simplicity, than the
majority of our emancipated professional women who fill the colleges, halls
of learning, and various offices. This does not mean a wish to return to the
past, nor does it condemn woman to her old sphere, the kitchen and the
nursery.

Salvation lies in an energetic march onward towards a brighter and
clearer future. We are in need of unhampered growth out of old traditions
and habits. The movement for woman's emancipation has so far made but
the first step in that direction. It is to be hoped that it will gather strength to
make another. The right to vote, or equal civil rights, may be good

demands, but true emancipation begins neither at the polls nor in courts. It
begins in woman's soul. History tells us that every oppressed class gained
true liberation from its masters through its own efforts. It is necessary that
woman learn that lesson, that she realize that her freedom will reach as far
as her power to achieve her freedom reaches. It is, therefore, far more
important for her to begin with her inner regeneration, to cut loose from the
weight of prejudices, traditions, and customs. The demand for equal rights
in every vocation of life is just and fair; but, after all, the most vital right is
the right to love and be loved. Indeed, if partial emancipation is to become a
complete and true emancipation of woman, it will have to do away with the
ridiculous notion that to be loved, to be sweetheart and mother, is
synonymous with being slave or subordinate. It will have to do away with
the absurd notion of the dualism of the sexes, or that man and woman
represent two antagonistic worlds.

Pettiness separates; breadth unites. Let us be broad and big. Let us not
overlook vital things because of the bulk of trifles confronting us. A true
conception of the relation of the sexes will not admit of conqueror and
conquered; it knows of but one great thing: to give of one's self boundlessly,
in order to find one's self richer, deeper, better. That alone can fill the
emptiness, and transform the tragedy of woman's emancipation into joy,
limitless joy.

MARRIAGE AND LOVE

The popular notion about marriage and love is that they are synonymous,
that they spring from the same motives, and cover the same human needs.
Like most popular notions this also rests not on actual facts, but on
superstition.

Marriage and love have nothing in common; they are as far apart as the
poles; are, in fact, antagonistic to each other. No doubt some marriages have
been the result of love. Not, however, because love could assert itself only
in marriage; much rather is it because few people can completely outgrow a
convention. There are today large numbers of men and women to whom
marriage is naught but a farce, but who submit to it for the sake of public
opinion. At any rate, while it is true that some marriages are based on love,
and while it is equally true that in some cases love continues in married life,
I maintain that it does so regardless of marriage, and not because of it.

On the other hand, it is utterly false that love results from marriage. On
rare occasions one does hear of a miraculous case of a married couple
falling in love after marriage, but on close examination it will be found that
it is a mere adjustment to the inevitable. Certainly the growing-used to each
other is far away from the spontaneity, the intensity, and beauty of love,
without which the intimacy of marriage must prove degrading to both the
woman and the man.

Marriage is primarily an economic arrangement, an insurance pact. It
differs from the ordinary life insurance agreement only in that it is more
binding, more exacting. Its returns are insignificantly small compared with
the investments. In taking out an insurance policy one pays for it in dollars
and cents, always at liberty to discontinue payments. If, however, woman's
premium is her husband, she pays for it with her name, her privacy, her self-
respect, her very life, "until death doth part." Moreover, the marriage
insurance condemns her to life-long dependency, to parasitism, to complete
uselessness, individual as well as social. Man, too, pays his toll, but as his
sphere is wider, marriage does not limit him as much as woman. He feels
his chains more in an economic sense.

Thus Dante's motto over Inferno applies with equal force to marriage.
"Ye who enter here leave all hope behind."

That marriage is a failure none but the very stupid will deny. One has but
to glance over the statistics of divorce to realize how bitter a failure
marriage really is. Nor will the stereotyped Philistine argument that the
laxity of divorce laws and the growing looseness of woman account for the
fact that: first, every twelfth marriage ends in divorce; second, that since

1870 divorces have increased from 28 to 73 for every hundred thousand
population; third, that adultery, since 1867, as ground for divorce, has
increased 270.8 per cent.; fourth, that desertion increased 369.8 per cent.

Added to these startling figures is a vast amount of material, dramatic
and literary, further elucidating this subject. Robert Herrick, in
TOGETHER; Pinero, in MID-CHANNEL; Eugene Walter, in PAID IN
FULL, and scores of other writers are discussing the barrenness, the
monotony, the sordidness, the inadequacy of marriage as a factor for
harmony and understanding.

The thoughtful social student will not content himself with the popular
superficial excuse for this phenomenon. He will have to dig deeper into the
very life of the sexes to know why marriage proves so disastrous.

Edward Carpenter says that behind every marriage stands the life-long
environment of the two sexes; an environment so different from each other
that man and woman must remain strangers. Separated by an
insurmountable wall of superstition, custom, and habit, marriage has not the
potentiality of developing knowledge of, and respect for, each other,
without which every union is doomed to failure.

Henrik Ibsen, the hater of all social shams, was probably the first to
realize this great truth. Nora leaves her husband, not—as the stupid critic
would have it—because she is tired of her responsibilities or feels the need
of woman's rights, but because she has come to know that for eight years
she had lived with a stranger and borne him children. Can there be anything
more humiliating, more degrading than a life-long proximity between two
strangers? No need for the woman to know anything of the man, save his
income. As to the knowledge of the woman—what is there to know except
that she has a pleasing appearance? We have not yet outgrown the theologic
myth that woman has no soul, that she is a mere appendix to man, made out
of his rib just for the convenience of the gentleman who was so strong that
he was afraid of his own shadow.

Perchance the poor quality of the material whence woman comes is
responsible for her inferiority. At any rate, woman has no soul—what is
there to know about her? Besides, the less soul a woman has the greater her

asset as a wife, the more readily will she absorb herself in her husband. It is
this slavish acquiescence to man's superiority that has kept the marriage
institution seemingly intact for so long a period. Now that woman is coming
into her own, now that she is actually growing aware of herself as being
outside of the master's grace, the sacred institution of marriage is gradually
being undermined, and no amount of sentimental lamentation can stay it.

From infancy, almost, the average girl is told that marriage is her
ultimate goal; therefore her training and education must be directed towards
that end. Like the mute beast fattened for slaughter, she is prepared for that.
Yet, strange to say, she is allowed to know much less about her function as
wife and mother than the ordinary artisan of his trade. It is indecent and
filthy for a respectable girl to know anything of the marital relation. Oh, for
the inconsistency of respectability, that needs the marriage vow to turn
something which is filthy into the purest and most sacred arrangement that
none dare question or criticize. Yet that is exactly the attitude of the average
upholder of marriage. The prospective wife and mother is kept in complete
ignorance of her only asset in the competitive field—sex. Thus she enters
into life-long relations with a man only to find herself shocked, repelled,
outraged beyond measure by the most natural and healthy instinct, sex. It is
safe to say that a large percentage of the unhappiness, misery, distress, and
physical suffering of matrimony is due to the criminal ignorance in sex
matters that is being extolled as a great virtue. Nor is it at all an
exaggeration when I say that more than one home has been broken up
because of this deplorable fact.

If, however, woman is free and big enough to learn the mystery of sex
without the sanction of State or Church, she will stand condemned as utterly
unfit to become the wife of a "good" man, his goodness consisting of an
empty brain and plenty of money. Can there be anything more outrageous
than the idea that a healthy, grown woman, full of life and passion, must
deny nature's demand, must subdue her most intense craving, undermine
her health and break her spirit, must stunt her vision, abstain from the depth
and glory of sex experience until a "good" man comes along to take her
unto himself as a wife? That is precisely what marriage means. How can

such an arrangement end except in failure? This is one, though not the least
important, factor of marriage, which differentiates it from love.

Ours is a practical age. The time when Romeo and Juliet risked the wrath
of their fathers for love, when Gretchen exposed herself to the gossip of her
neighbors for love, is no more. If, on rare occasions, young people allow
themselves the luxury of romance, they are taken in care by the elders,
drilled and pounded until they become "sensible."

The moral lesson instilled in the girl is not whether the man has aroused
her love, but rather is it, "How much?" The important and only God of
practical American life: Can the man make a living? can he support a wife?
That is the only thing that justifies marriage. Gradually this saturates every
thought of the girl; her dreams are not of moonlight and kisses, of laughter
and tears; she dreams of shopping tours and bargain counters. This soul
poverty and sordidness are the elements inherent in the marriage institution.
The State and Church approve of no other ideal, simply because it is the one
that necessitates the State and Church control of men and women.

Doubtless there are people who continue to consider love above dollars
and cents. Particularly this is true of that class whom economic necessity
has forced to become self-supporting. The tremendous change in woman's
position, wrought by that mighty factor, is indeed phenomenal when we
reflect that it is but a short time since she has entered the industrial arena.
Six million women wage workers; six million women, who have equal right
with men to be exploited, to be robbed, to go on strike; aye, to starve even.
Anything more, my lord? Yes, six million wage workers in every walk of
life, from the highest brain work to the mines and railroad tracks; yes, even
detectives and policemen. Surely the emancipation is complete.

Yet with all that, but a very small number of the vast army of women
wage workers look upon work as a permanent issue, in the same light as
does man. No matter how decrepit the latter, he has been taught to be
independent, self-supporting. Oh, I know that no one is really independent
in our economic treadmill; still, the poorest specimen of a man hates to be a
parasite; to be known as such, at any rate.

The woman considers her position as worker transitory, to be thrown
aside for the first bidder. That is why it is infinitely harder to organize
women than men. "Why should I join a union? I am going to get married, to
have a home." Has she not been taught from infancy to look upon that as
her ultimate calling? She learns soon enough that the home, though not so
large a prison as the factory, has more solid doors and bars. It has a keeper
so faithful that naught can escape him. The most tragic part, however, is
that the home no longer frees her from wage slavery; it only increases her
task.

According to the latest statistics submitted before a Committee "on labor
and wages, and congestion of population," ten per cent. of the wage
workers in New York City alone are married, yet they must continue to
work at the most poorly paid labor in the world. Add to this horrible aspect
the drudgery of housework, and what remains of the protection and glory of
the home? As a matter of fact, even the middle-class girl in marriage can
not speak of her home, since it is the man who creates her sphere. It is not
important whether the husband is a brute or a darling. What I wish to prove
is that marriage guarantees woman a home only by the grace of her
husband. There she moves about in HIS home, year after year, until her
aspect of life and human affairs becomes as flat, narrow, and drab as her
surroundings. Small wonder if she becomes a nag, petty, quarrelsome,
gossipy, unbearable, thus driving the man from the house. She could not go,
if she wanted to; there is no place to go. Besides, a short period of married
life, of complete surrender of all faculties, absolutely incapacitates the
average woman for the outside world. She becomes reckless in appearance,
clumsy in her movements, dependent in her decisions, cowardly in her
judgment, a weight and a bore, which most men grow to hate and despise.
Wonderfully inspiring atmosphere for the bearing of life, is it not?

But the child, how is it to be protected, if not for marriage? After all, is
not that the most important consideration? The sham, the hypocrisy of it!
Marriage protecting the child, yet thousands of children destitute and
homeless. Marriage protecting the child, yet orphan asylums and
reformatories overcrowded, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Children keeping busy in rescuing the little victims from "loving" parents,

to place them under more loving care, the Gerry Society. Oh, the mockery
of it!

Marriage may have the power to bring the horse to water, but has it ever
made him drink? The law will place the father under arrest, and put him in
convict's clothes; but has that ever stilled the hunger of the child? If the
parent has no work, or if he hides his identity, what does marriage do then?
It invokes the law to bring the man to "justice," to put him safely behind
closed doors; his labor, however, goes not to the child, but to the State. The
child receives but a blighted memory of his father's stripes.

As to the protection of the woman,—therein lies the curse of marriage.
Not that it really protects her, but the very idea is so revolting, such an
outrage and insult on life, so degrading to human dignity, as to forever
condemn this parasitic institution.

It is like that other paternal arrangement—capitalism. It robs man of his
birthright, stunts his growth, poisons his body, keeps him in ignorance, in
poverty, and dependence, and then institutes charities that thrive on the last
vestige of man's self-respect.

The institution of marriage makes a parasite of woman, an absolute
dependent. It incapacitates her for life's struggle, annihilates her social
consciousness, paralyzes her imagination, and then imposes its gracious
protection, which is in reality a snare, a travesty on human character.

If motherhood is the highest fulfillment of woman's nature, what other
protection does it need, save love and freedom? Marriage but defiles,
outrages, and corrupts her fulfillment. Does it not say to woman, Only when
you follow me shall you bring forth life? Does it not condemn her to the
block, does it not degrade and shame her if she refuses to buy her right to
motherhood by selling herself? Does not marriage only sanction
motherhood, even though conceived in hatred, in compulsion? Yet, if
motherhood be of free choice, of love, of ecstasy, of defiant passion, does it
not place a crown of thorns upon an innocent head and carve in letters of
blood the hideous epithet, Bastard? Were marriage to contain all the virtues
claimed for it, its crimes against motherhood would exclude it forever from
the realm of love.

Love, the strongest and deepest element in all life, the harbinger of hope,
of joy, of ecstasy; love, the defier of all laws, of all conventions; love, the
freest, the most powerful moulder of human destiny; how can such an all-
compelling force be synonymous with that poor little State and Church-
begotten weed, marriage?

Free love? As if love is anything but free! Man has bought brains, but all
the millions in the world have failed to buy love. Man has subdued bodies,
but all the power on earth has been unable to subdue love. Man has
conquered whole nations, but all his armies could not conquer love. Man
has chained and fettered the spirit, but he has been utterly helpless before
love. High on a throne, with all the splendor and pomp his gold can
command, man is yet poor and desolate, if love passes him by. And if it
stays, the poorest hovel is radiant with warmth, with life and color. Thus
love has the magic power to make of a beggar a king. Yes, love is free; it
can dwell in no other atmosphere. In freedom it gives itself unreservedly,
abundantly, completely. All the laws on the statutes, all the courts in the
universe, cannot tear it from the soil, once love has taken root. If, however,
the soil is sterile, how can marriage make it bear fruit? It is like the last
desperate struggle of fleeting life against death.

Love needs no protection; it is its own protection. So long as love begets
life no child is deserted, or hungry, or famished for the want of affection. I
know this to be true. I know women who became mothers in freedom by the
men they loved. Few children in wedlock enjoy the care, the protection, the
devotion free motherhood is capable of bestowing.

The defenders of authority dread the advent of a free motherhood, lest it
will rob them of their prey. Who would fight wars? Who would create
wealth? Who would make the policeman, the jailer, if woman were to
refuse the indiscriminate breeding of children? The race, the race! shouts
the king, the president, the capitalist, the priest. The race must be preserved,
though woman be degraded to a mere machine,—and the marriage
institution is our only safety valve against the pernicious sex awakening of
woman. But in vain these frantic efforts to maintain a state of bondage. In
vain, too, the edicts of the Church, the mad attacks of rulers, in vain even
the arm of the law. Woman no longer wants to be a party to the production

of a race of sickly, feeble, decrepit, wretched human beings, who have
neither the strength nor moral courage to throw off the yoke of poverty and
slavery. Instead she desires fewer and better children, begotten and reared in
love and through free choice; not by compulsion, as marriage imposes. Our
pseudo-moralists have yet to learn the deep sense of responsibility toward
the child, that love in freedom has awakened in the breast of woman. Rather
would she forego forever the glory of motherhood than bring forth life in an
atmosphere that breathes only destruction and death. And if she does
become a mother, it is to give to the child the deepest and best her being can
yield. To grow with the child is her motto; she knows that in that manner
alone can she help build true manhood and womanhood.

Ibsen must have had a vision of a free mother, when, with a master
stroke, he portrayed Mrs. Alving. She was the ideal mother because she had
outgrown marriage and all its horrors, because she had broken her chains,
and set her spirit free to soar until it returned a personality, regenerated and
strong. Alas, it was too late to rescue her life's joy, her Oswald; but not too
late to realize that love in freedom is the only condition of a beautiful life.
Those who, like Mrs. Alving, have paid with blood and tears for their
spiritual awakening, repudiate marriage as an imposition, a shallow, empty
mockery. They know, whether love last but one brief span of time or for
eternity, it is the only creative, inspiring, elevating basis for a new race, a
new world.

In our present pygmy state love is indeed a stranger to most people.
Misunderstood and shunned, it rarely takes root; or if it does, it soon
withers and dies. Its delicate fiber can not endure the stress and strain of the
daily grind. Its soul is too complex to adjust itself to the slimy woof of our
social fabric. It weeps and moans and suffers with those who have need of
it, yet lack the capacity to rise to love's summit.

Some day, some day men and women will rise, they will reach the
mountain peak, they will meet big and strong and free, ready to receive, to
partake, and to bask in the golden rays of love. What fancy, what
imagination, what poetic genius can foresee even approximately the
potentialities of such a force in the life of men and women. If the world is

ever to give birth to true companionship and oneness, not marriage, but love
will be the parent.

THE MODERN DRAMA: A POWERFUL DISSEMINATOR
OF RADICAL THOUGHT

So long as discontent and unrest make themselves but dumbly felt within
a limited social class, the powers of reaction may often succeed in
suppressing such manifestations. But when the dumb unrest grows into
conscious expression and becomes almost universal, it necessarily affects
all phases of human thought and action, and seeks its individual and social
expression in the gradual transvaluation of existing values.

An adequate appreciation of the tremendous spread of the modern,
conscious social unrest cannot be gained from merely propagandistic
literature. Rather must we become conversant with the larger phases of
human expression manifest in art, literature, and, above all, the modern
drama—the strongest and most far-reaching interpreter of our deep-felt
dissatisfaction.

What a tremendous factor for the awakening of conscious discontent are
the simple canvasses of a Millet! The figures of his peasants—what terrific
indictment against our social wrongs; wrongs that condemn the Man With
the Hoe to hopeless drudgery, himself excluded from Nature's bounty.

The vision of a Meunier conceives the growing solidarity and defiance
of labor in the group of miners carrying their maimed brother to safety. His
genius thus powerfully portrays the interrelation of the seething unrest
among those slaving in the bowels of the earth, and the spiritual revolt that
seeks artistic expression.

No less important is the factor for rebellious awakening in modern
literature—Turgeniev, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Andreiev, Gorki, Whitman,
Emerson, and scores of others embodying the spirit of universal ferment
and the longing for social change.

Still more far-reaching is the modern drama, as the leaven of radical
thought and the disseminator of new values.

It might seem an exaggeration to ascribe to the modern drama such an
important role. But a study of the development of modern ideas in most
countries will prove that the drama has succeeded in driving home great
social truths, truths generally ignored when presented in other forms. No
doubt there are exceptions, as Russia and France.

Russia, with its terrible political pressure, has made people think and has
awakened their social sympathies, because of the tremendous contrast
which exists between the intellectual life of the people and the despotic
regime that is trying to crush that life. Yet while the great dramatic works of
Tolstoy, Tchechov, Gorki, and Andreiev closely mirror the life and the
struggle, the hopes and aspirations of the Russian people, they did not
influence radical thought to the extent the drama has done in other
countries.

Who can deny, however, the tremendous influence exerted by THE
POWER OF DARKNESS or NIGHT LODGING. Tolstoy, the real, true
Christian, is yet the greatest enemy of organized Christianity. With a master
hand he portrays the destructive effects upon the human mind of the power
of darkness, the superstitions of the Christian Church.

What other medium could express, with such dramatic force, the
responsibility of the Church for crimes committed by its deluded victims;
what other medium could, in consequence, rouse the indignation of man's
conscience?

Similarly direct and powerful is the indictment contained in Gorki's
NIGHT LODGING. The social pariahs, forced into poverty and crime, yet
desperately clutch at the last vestiges of hope and aspiration. Lost
existences these, blighted and crushed by cruel, unsocial environment.

France, on the other hand, with her continuous struggle for liberty, is
indeed the cradle of radical thought; as such she, too, did not need the
drama as a means of awakening. And yet the works of Brieux—as ROBE
ROUGE, portraying the terrible corruption of the judiciary—and Mirbeau's
LES AFFAIRES SONT LES AFFAIRES—picturing the destructive
influence of wealth on the human soul—have undoubtedly reached wider
circles than most of the articles and books which have been written in
France on the social question.

In countries like Germany, Scandinavia, England, and even in America
—though in a lesser degree—the drama is the vehicle which is really
making history, disseminating radical thought in ranks not otherwise to be
reached.

Let us take Germany, for instance. For nearly a quarter of a century men
of brains, of ideas, and of the greatest integrity, made it their life-work to
spread the truth of human brotherhood, of justice, among the oppressed and
downtrodden. Socialism, that tremendous revolutionary wave, was to the
victims of a merciless and inhumane system like water to the parched lips
of the desert traveler. Alas! The cultured people remained absolutely
indifferent; to them that revolutionary tide was but the murmur of
dissatisfied, discontented men, dangerous, illiterate troublemakers, whose
proper place was behind prison bars.

Self-satisfied as the "cultured" usually are, they could not understand
why one should fuss about the fact that thousands of people were starving,
though they contributed towards the wealth of the world. Surrounded by
beauty and luxury, they could not believe that side by side with them lived
human beings degraded to a position lower than a beast's, shelterless and
ragged, without hope or ambition.

This condition of affairs was particularly pronounced in Germany after
the Franco-German war. Full to the bursting point with its victory, Germany
thrived on a sentimental, patriotic literature, thereby poisoning the minds of
the country's youth by the glory of conquest and bloodshed.

Intellectual Germany had to take refuge in the literature of other
countries, in the works of Ibsen, Zola, Daudet, Maupassant, and especially

in the great works of Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, and Turgeniev. But as no
country can long maintain a standard of culture without a literature and
drama related to its own soil, so Germany gradually began to develop a
drama reflecting the life and the struggles of its own people.

Arno Holz, one of the youngest dramatists of that period, startled the
Philistines out of their ease and comfort with his FAMILIE SELICKE. The
play deals with society's refuse, men and women of the alleys, whose only
subsistence consists of what they can pick out of the garbage barrels. A
gruesome subject, is it not? And yet what other method is there to break
through the hard shell of the minds and souls of people who have never
known want, and who therefore assume that all is well in the world?

Needless to say, the play aroused tremendous indignation. The truth is
bitter, and the people living on the Fifth Avenue of Berlin hated to be
confronted with the truth.

Not that FAMILIE SELICKE represented anything that had not been
written about for years without any seeming result. But the dramatic genius
of Holz, together with the powerful interpretation of the play, necessarily
made inroads into the widest circles, and forced people to think about the
terrible inequalities around them.

Sudermann's EHRE[1] and HEIMAT[2] deal with vital subjects. I have
already referred to the sentimental patriotism so completely turning the
head of the average German as to create a perverted conception of honor.
Duelling became an every-day affair, costing innumerable lives. A great cry
was raised against the fad by a number of leading writers. But nothing acted
as such a clarifier and exposer of that national disease as the EHRE.

Not that the play merely deals with duelling; it analyzes the real meaning
of honor, proving that it is not a fixed, inborn feeling, but that it varies with
every people and every epoch, depending particularly on one's economic
and social station in life. We realize from this play that the man in the
brownstone mansion will necessarily define honor differently from his
victims.

The family Heinecke enjoys the charity of the millionaire Muhling,
being permitted to occupy a dilapidated shanty on his premises in the
absence of their son, Robert. The latter, as Muhling's representative, is
making a vast fortune for his employer in India. On his return Robert
discovers that his sister had been seduced by young Muhling, whose father
graciously offers to straighten matters with a check for 40,000 marks.
Robert, outraged and indignant, resents the insult to his family's honor, and
is forthwith dismissed from his position for impudence. Robert finally
throws this accusation into the face of the philanthropist millionaire:

"We slave for you, we sacrifice our heart's blood for you, while you
seduce our daughters and sisters and kindly pay for their disgrace with the
gold we have earned for you. That is what you call honor."

An incidental side-light upon the conception of honor is given by Count
Trast, the principal character in the EHRE, a man widely conversant with
the customs of various climes, who relates that in his many travels he
chanced across a savage tribe whose honor he mortally offended by
refusing the hospitality which offered him the charms of the chieftain's
wife.

The theme of HEIMAT treats of the struggle between the old and the
young generations. It holds a permanent and important place in dramatic
literature.

Magda, the daughter of Lieutenant Colonel Schwartz, has committed an
unpardonable sin: she refused the suitor selected by her father. For daring to
disobey the parental commands she is driven from home. Magda, full of life
and the spirit of liberty, goes out into the world to return to her native town,
twelve years later, a celebrated singer. She consents to visit her parents on
condition that they respect the privacy of her past. But her martinet father
immediately begins to question her, insisting on his "paternal rights."
Magda is indignant, but gradually his persistence brings to light the tragedy
of her life. He learns that the respected Councillor Von Keller had in his
student days been Magda's lover, while she was battling for her economic
and social independence. The consequence of the fleeting romance was a
child, deserted by the man even before birth. The rigid military father of
Magda demands as retribution from Councillor Von Keller that he legalize

the love affair. In view of Magda's social and professional success, Keller
willingly consents, but on condition that she forsake the stage, and place the
child in an institution. The struggle between the Old and the New
culminates in Magda's defiant words of the woman grown to conscious
independence of thought and action: "...I'll say what I think of you—of you
and your respectable society. Why should I be worse than you that I must
prolong my existence among you by a lie! Why should this gold upon my
body, and the lustre which surrounds my name, only increase my infamy?
Have I not worked early and late for ten long years? Have I not woven this
dress with sleepless nights? Have I not built up my career step by step, like
thousands of my kind? Why should I blush before anyone? I am myself, and
through myself I have become what I am."

The general theme of HEIMAT was not original. It had been previously
treated by a master hand in FATHERS AND SONS. Partly because
Turgeniev's great work was typical rather of Russian than universal
conditions, and still more because it was in the form of fiction, the influence
of FATHERS AND SONS was limited to Russia. But HEIMAT, especially
because of its dramatic expression, became almost a world factor.

The dramatist who not only disseminated radicalism, but literally
revolutionized the thoughtful Germans, is Gerhardt Hauptmann. His first
play VOR SONNENAUFGANG[3], refused by every leading German
theatre and first performed in a wretched little playhouse behind a beer
garden, acted like a stroke of lightning, illuminating the entire social
horizon. Its subject matter deals with the life of an extensive landowner,
ignorant, illiterate, and brutalized, and his economic slaves of the same
mental calibre. The influence of wealth, both on the victims who created it
and the possessor thereof, is shown in the most vivid colors, as resulting in
drunkenness, idiocy, and decay. But the most striking feature of VOR
SONNENAUFGANG, the one which brought a shower of abuse on
Hauptmann's head, was the question as to the indiscriminate breeding of
children by unfit parents.

During the second performance of the play a leading Berlin surgeon
almost caused a panic in the theatre by swinging a pair of forceps over his
head and screaming at the top of his voice: "The decency and morality of

Germany are at stake if childbirth is to be discussed openly from the stage."
The surgeon is forgotten, and Hauptmann stands a colossal figure before the
world.

When DIE WEBER[4] first saw the light, pandemonium broke out in the
land of thinkers and poets. "What," cried the moralists, "workingmen, dirty,
filthy slaves, to be put on the stage! Poverty in all its horrors and ugliness to
be dished out as an after-dinner amusement? That is too much!"

Indeed, it was too much for the fat and greasy bourgeoisie to be brought
face to face with the horrors of the weaver's existence. It was too much
because of the truth and reality that rang like thunder in the deaf ears of
self-satisfied society, J'ACCUSE!

Of course, it was generally known even before the appearance of this
drama that capital can not get fat unless it devours labor, that wealth can not
be hoarded except through the channels of poverty, hunger, and cold; but
such things are better kept in the dark, lest the victims awaken to a
realization of their position. But it is the purpose of the modern drama to
rouse the consciousness of the oppressed; and that, indeed, was the purpose
of Gerhardt Hauptmann in depicting to the world the conditions of the
weavers in Silesia. Human beings working eighteen hours daily, yet not
earning enough for bread and fuel; human beings living in broken, wretched
huts half covered with snow, and nothing but tatters to protect them from
the cold; infants covered with scurvy from hunger and exposure; pregnant
women in the last stages of consumption. Victims of a benevolent Christian
era, without life, without hope, without warmth. Ah, yes, it was too much!

Hauptmann's dramatic versatility deals with every stratum of social life.
Besides portraying the grinding effect of economic conditions, he also treats
of the struggle of the individual for his mental and spiritual liberation from
the slavery of convention and tradition. Thus Heinrich, the bell-forger, in
the dramatic prose-poem, DIE VERSUNKENE GLOCKE[5], fails to reach
the mountain peaks of liberty because, as Rautendelein said, he had lived in
the valley too long. Similarly Dr. Vockerath and Anna Maar remain lonely
souls because they, too, lack the strength to defy venerated traditions. Yet
their very failure must awaken the rebellious spirit against a world forever
hindering individual and social emancipation.

Max Halbe's JUGEND[6] and Wedekind's FRUHLING'S
ERWACHEN[7] are dramas which have disseminated radical thought in an
altogether different direction. They treat of the child and the dense
ignorance and narrow Puritanism that meet the awakening of nature.
Particularly this is true of FRUHLING'S ERWACHEN. Young boys and
girls sacrificed on the altar of false education and of our sickening morality
that prohibits the enlightenment of youth as to questions so imperative to
the health and well-being of society,—the origin of life, and its functions. It
shows how a mother—and a truly good mother, at that—keeps her fourteen-
year-old daughter in absolute ignorance as to all matters of sex, and when
finally the young girl falls a victim to her own ignorance, the same mother
sees her daughter killed by quack medicines. The inscription on her grave
states that she died of anaemia, and morality is satisfied.

The fatality of our Puritanic hypocrisy in these matters is especially
illumined by Wedekind in so far as our most promising children fall victims
to sex ignorance and the utter lack of appreciation on the part of the
teachers of the child's awakening.

Wendla, unusually developed and alert for her age, pleads with her
mother to explain the mystery of life:

"I have a sister who has been married for two and a half years. I myself
have been made an aunt for the third time, and I haven't the least idea how it
all comes about.... Don't be cross, Mother, dear! Whom in the world should
I ask but you? Don't scold me for asking about it. Give me an answer.—
How does it happen?—You cannot really deceive yourself that I, who am
fourteen years old, still believe in the stork."

Were her mother herself not a victim of false notions of morality, an
affectionate and sensible explanation might have saved her daughter. But
the conventional mother seeks to hide her "moral" shame and
embarrassment in this evasive reply:

"In order to have a child—one must love—the man—to whom one is
married.... One must love him, Wendla, as you at your age are still unable to
love.—Now you know it!"

How much Wendla "knew" the mother realized too late. The pregnant
girl imagines herself ill with dropsy. And when her mother cries in
desperation, "You haven't the dropsy, you have a child, girl," the agonized
Wendla exclaims in bewilderment: "But it's not possible, Mother, I am not
married yet.... Oh, Mother, why didn't you tell me everything?"

With equal stupidity the boy Morris is driven to suicide because he fails
in his school examinations. And Melchior, the youthful father of Wendla's
unborn child, is sent to the House of Correction, his early sexual awakening
stamping him a degenerate in the eyes of teachers and parents.

For years thoughtful men and women in Germany had advocated the
compelling necessity of sex enlightenment. MUTTERSCHUTZ, a
publication specially devoted to frank and intelligent discussion of the sex
problem, has been carrying on its agitation for a considerable time. But it
remained for the dramatic genius of Wedekind to influence radical thought
to the extent of forcing the introduction of sex physiology in many schools
of Germany.

Scandinavia, like Germany, was advanced through the drama much more
than through any other channel. Long before Ibsen appeared on the scene,
Bjornson, the great essayist, thundered against the inequalities and injustice
prevalent in those countries. But his was a voice in the wilderness, reaching
but the few. Not so with Ibsen. His BRAND, DOLL'S HOUSE, PILLARS
OF SOCIETY, GHOSTS, and AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE have
considerably undermined the old conceptions, and replaced them by a
modern and real view of life. One has but to read BRAND to realize the
modern conception, let us say, of religion,—religion, as an ideal to be
achieved on earth; religion as a principle of human brotherhood, of
solidarity, and kindness.

Ibsen, the supreme hater of all social shams, has torn the veil of
hypocrisy from their faces. His greatest onslaught, however, is on the four
cardinal points supporting the flimsy network of society. First, the lie upon
which rests the life of today; second, the futility of sacrifice as preached by
our moral codes; third, petty material consideration, which is the only god
the majority worships; and fourth, the deadening influence of provincialism.
These four recur as the LEITMOTIF in Ibsen's plays, but particularly in

PILLARS OF SOCIETY, DOLL'S HOUSE, GHOSTS, and AN ENEMY
OF THE PEOPLE.

Pillars of Society! What a tremendous indictment against the social
structure that rests on rotten and decayed pillars,—pillars nicely gilded and
apparently intact, yet merely hiding their true condition. And what are these
pillars?

Consul Bernick, at the very height of his social and financial career, the
benefactor of his town and the strongest pillar of the community, has
reached the summit through the channel of lies, deception, and fraud. He
has robbed his bosom friend, Johann, of his good name, and has betrayed
Lona Hessel, the woman he loved, to marry her step-sister for the sake of
her money. He has enriched himself by shady transactions, under cover of
"the community's good," and finally even goes to the extent of endangering
human life by preparing the INDIAN GIRL, a rotten and dangerous vessel,
to go to sea.

But the return of Lona brings him the realization of the emptiness and
meanness of his narrow life. He seeks to placate the waking conscience by
the hope that he has cleared the ground for the better life of his son, of the
new generation. But even this last hope soon falls to the ground, as he
realizes that truth cannot be built on a lie. At the very moment when the
whole town is prepared to celebrate the great benefactor of the community
with banquet praise, he himself, now grown to full spiritual manhood,
confesses to the assembled townspeople:

"I have no right to this homage— ... My fellow-citizens must know me
to the core. Then let everyone examine himself, and let us realize the
prediction that from this event we begin a new time. The old, with its tinsel,
its hypocrisy, its hollowness, its lying propriety, and its pitiful cowardice,
shall lie behind us like a museum, open for instruction."

With A DOLL'S HOUSE Ibsen has paved the way for woman's
emancipation. Nora awakens from her doll's role to the realization of the
injustice done her by her father and her husband, Helmer Torvald.

"While I was at home with father, he used to tell me all his opinions, and
I held the same opinions. If I had others I concealed them, because he
would not have approved. He used to call me his doll child, and play with
me as I played with my dolls. Then I came to live in your house. You settled
everything according to your taste, and I got the same taste as you, or I
pretended to. When I look back on it now, I seem to have been living like a
beggar, from hand to mouth. I lived by performing tricks for you, Torvald,
but you would have it so. You and father have done me a great wrong."

In vain Helmer uses the old philistine arguments of wifely duty and
social obligations. Nora has grown out of her doll's dress into full stature of
conscious womanhood. She is determined to think and judge for herself.
She has realized that, before all else, she is a human being, owing the first
duty to herself. She is undaunted even by the possibility of social ostracism.
She has become sceptical of the justice of the law, the wisdom of the
constituted. Her rebelling soul rises in protest against the existing. In her
own words: "I must make up my mind which is right, society or I."

In her childlike faith in her husband she had hoped for the great miracle.
But it was not the disappointed hope that opened her vision to the
falsehoods of marriage. It was rather the smug contentment of Helmer with
a safe lie—one that would remain hidden and not endanger his social
standing.

When Nora closed behind her the door of her gilded cage and went out
into the world a new, regenerated personality, she opened the gate of
freedom and truth for her own sex and the race to come.

More than any other play, GHOSTS has acted like a bomb explosion,
shaking the social structure to its very foundations.

In DOLL'S HOUSE the justification of the union between Nora and
Helmer rested at least on the husband's conception of integrity and rigid
adherence to our social morality. Indeed, he was the conventional ideal
husband and devoted father. Not so in GHOSTS. Mrs. Alving married
Captain Alving only to find that he was a physical and mental wreck, and
that life with him would mean utter degradation and be fatal to possible
offspring. In her despair she turned to her youth's companion, young Pastor

Manders who, as the true savior of souls for heaven, must needs be
indifferent to earthly necessities. He sent her back to shame and
degradation,—to her duties to husband and home. Indeed, happiness—to
him—was but the unholy manifestation of a rebellious spirit, and a wife's
duty was not to judge, but "to bear with humility the cross which a higher
power had for your own good laid upon you."

Mrs. Alving bore the cross for twenty-six long years. Not for the sake of
the higher power, but for her little son Oswald, whom she longed to save
from the poisonous atmosphere of her husband's home.

It was also for the sake of the beloved son that she supported the lie of
his father's goodness, in superstitious awe of "duty and decency." She
learned, alas! too late, that the sacrifice of her entire life had been in vain,
and that her son Oswald was visited by the sins of his father, that he was
irrevocably doomed. This, too, she learned, that "we are all of us ghosts. It
is not only what we have inherited from our father and mother that walks in
us. It is all sorts of dead ideas and lifeless old beliefs. They have no vitality,
but they cling to us all the same and we can't get rid of them.... And then we
are, one and all, so pitifully afraid of light. When you forced me under the
yoke you called Duty and Obligation; when you praised as right and proper
what my whole soul rebelled against as something loathsome; it was then
that I began to look into the seams of your doctrine. I only wished to pick at
a single knot, but when I had got that undone, the whole thing ravelled out.
And then I understood that it was all machine-sewn."

How could a society machine-sewn, fathom the seething depths whence
issued the great masterpiece of Henrik Ibsen? It could not understand, and
therefore it poured the vials of abuse and venom upon its greatest
benefactor. That Ibsen was not daunted he has proved by his reply in AN
ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.

In that great drama Ibsen performs the last funeral rites over a decaying
and dying social system. Out of its ashes rises the regenerated individual,
the bold and daring rebel. Dr. Stockman, an idealist, full of social sympathy
and solidarity, is called to his native town as the physician of the baths. He
soon discovers that the latter are built on a swamp, and that instead of
finding relief the patients, who flock to the place, are being poisoned.

An honest man, of strong convictions, the doctor considers it his duty to
make his discovery known. But he soon learns that dividends and profits are
concerned neither with health nor principles. Even the reformers of the
town, represented in the PEOPLE'S MESSENGER, always ready to prate
of their devotion to the people, withdraw their support from the "reckless"
idealist, the moment they learn that the doctor's discovery may bring the
town into disrepute, and thus injure their pockets.

But Doctor Stockman continues in the faith he entertains for has
townsmen. They would hear him. But here, too, he soon finds himself
alone. He cannot even secure a place to proclaim his great truth. And when
he finally succeeds, he is overwhelmed by abuse and ridicule as the enemy
of the people. The doctor, so enthusiastic of his townspeople's assistance to
eradicate the evil, is soon driven to a solitary position. The announcement
of his discovery would result in a pecuniary loss to the town, and that
consideration induces the officials, the good citizens, and soul reformers, to
stifle the voice of truth. He finds them all a compact majority, unscrupulous
enough to be willing to build up the prosperity of the town on a quagmire of
lies and fraud. He is accused of trying to ruin the community. But to his
mind "it does not matter if a lying community is ruined. It must be levelled
to the ground. All men who live upon lies must be exterminated like
vermin. You'll bring it to such a pass that the whole country will deserve to
perish."

Doctor Stockman is not a practical politician. A free man, he thinks,
must not behave like a blackguard. "He must not so act that he would spit in
his own face." For only cowards permit "considerations" of pretended
general welfare or of party to override truth and ideals. "Party programmes
wring the necks of all young, living truths; and considerations of
expediency turn morality and righteousness upside down, until life is
simply hideous."

These plays of Ibsen—THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY, A DOLL'S
HOUSE, GHOSTS, and AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE—constitute a
dynamic force which is gradually dissipating the ghosts walking the social
burying ground called civilization. Nay, more; Ibsen's destructive effects are
at the same time supremely constructive, for he not merely undermines

existing pillars; indeed, he builds with sure strokes the foundation of a
healthier, ideal future, based on the sovereignty of the individual within a
sympathetic social environment.

England with her great pioneers of radical thought, the intellectual
pilgrims like Godwin, Robert Owen, Darwin, Spencer, William Morris, and
scores of others; with her wonderful larks of liberty—Shelley, Byron, Keats
—is another example of the influence of dramatic art. Within comparatively
a few years, the dramatic works of Shaw, Pinero, Galsworthy, Rann
Kennedy, have carried radical thought to the ears formerly deaf even to
Great Britain's wondrous poets. Thus a public which will remain indifferent
reading an essay by Robert Owen, on Poverty, or ignore Bernard Shaw's
Socialistic tracts, was made to think by MAJOR BARBARA, wherein
poverty is described as the greatest crime of Christian civilization. "Poverty
makes people weak, slavish, puny; poverty creates disease, crime,
prostitution; in fine, poverty is responsible for all the ills and evils of the
world." Poverty also necessitates dependency, charitable organizations,
institutions that thrive off the very thing they are trying to destroy. The
Salvation Army, for instance, as shown in MAJOR BARBARA, fights
drunkenness; yet one of its greatest contributors is Badger, a whiskey
distiller, who furnishes yearly thousands of pounds to do away with the
very source of his wealth. Bernard Shaw, therefore, concludes that the only
real benefactor of society is a man like Undershaft, Barbara's father, a
cannon manufacturer, whose theory of life is that powder is stronger than
words.

"The worst of crimes," says Undershaft, "is poverty. All the other crimes
are virtues beside it; all the other dishonors are chivalry itself by
comparison. Poverty blights whole cities; spreads horrible pestilences;
strikes dead the very soul of all who come within sight, sound, or smell of
it. What you call crime is nothing; a murder here, a theft there, a blow now
and a curse there: what do they matter? They are only the accidents and
illnesses of life; there are not fifty genuine professional criminals in
London. But there are millions of poor people, abject people, dirty people,
ill-fed, ill-clothed people. They poison us morally and physically; they kill
the happiness of society; they force us to do away with our own liberties
and to organize unnatural cruelties for fear they should rise against us and

drag us down into their abyss.... Poverty and slavery have stood up for
centuries to your sermons and leading articles; they will not stand up to my
machine guns. Don't preach at them; don't reason with them. Kill them.... It
is the final test of conviction, the only lever strong enough to overturn a
social system.... Vote! Bah! When you vote, you only change the name of
the cabinet. When you shoot, you pull down governments, inaugurate new
epochs, abolish old orders, and set up new."

No wonder people cared little to read Mr. Shaw's Socialistic tracts. In no
other way but in the drama could he deliver such forcible, historic truths.
And therefore it is only through the drama that Mr. Shaw is a revolutionary
factor in the dissemination of radical ideas.

After Hauptmann's DIE WEBER, STRIFE, by Galsworthy, is the most
important labor drama.

The theme of STRIFE is a strike with two dominant factors: Anthony,
the president of the company, rigid, uncompromising, unwilling to make the
slightest concession, although the men held out for months and are in a
condition of semi-starvation; and David Roberts, an uncompromising
revolutionist, whose devotion to the workingman and the cause of freedom
is at white heat. Between them the strikers are worn and weary with the
terrible struggle, and are harassed and driven by the awful sight of poverty
and want in their families.

The most marvellous and brilliant piece of work in STRIFE is
Galsworthy's portrayal of the mob, its fickleness, and lack of backbone.
One moment they applaud old Thomas, who speaks of the power of God
and religion and admonishes the men against rebellion; the next instant they
are carried away by a walking delegate, who pleads the cause of the union,
—the union that always stands for compromise, and which forsakes the
workingmen whenever they dare to strike for independent demands; again
they are aglow with the earnestness, the spirit, and the intensity of David
Roberts—all these people willing to go in whatever direction the wind
blows. It is the curse of the working class that they always follow like sheep
led to slaughter.

Consistency is the greatest crime of our commercial age. No matter how
intense the spirit or how important the man, the moment he will not allow
himself to be used or sell his principles, he is thrown on the dustheap. Such
was the fate of the president of the company, Anthony, and of David
Roberts. To be sure they represented opposite poles—poles antagonistic to
each other, poles divided by a terrible gap that can never be bridged over.
Yet they shared a common fate. Anthony is the embodiment of
conservatism, of old ideas, of iron methods:

"I have been chairman of this company thirty-two years. I have fought
the men four times. I have never been defeated. It has been said that times
have changed. If they have, I have not changed with them. It has been said
that masters and men are equal. Cant. There can be only one master in a
house. It has been said that Capital and Labor have the same interests. Cant.
Their interests are as wide asunder as the poles. There is only one way of
treating men—with the iron rod. Masters are masters. Men are men."

We may not like this adherence to old, reactionary notions, and yet there
is something admirable in the courage and consistency of this man, nor is
he half as dangerous to the interests of the oppressed, as our sentimental
and soft reformers who rob with nine fingers, and give libraries with the
tenth; who grind human beings like Russell Sage, and then spend millions
of dollars in social research work; who turn beautiful young plants into
faded old women, and then give them a few paltry dollars or found a Home
for Working Girls. Anthony is a worthy foe; and to fight such a foe, one
must learn to meet him in open battle.

David Roberts has all the mental and moral attributes of his adversary,
coupled with the spirit of revolt, and the depth of modern ideas. He, too, is
consistent, and wants nothing for his class short of complete victory.

"It is not for this little moment of time we are fighting, not for our own
little bodies and their warmth; it is for all those who come after, for all
times. Oh, men, for the love of them don't turn up another stone on their
heads, don't help to blacken the sky. If we can shake that white-faced
monster with the bloody lips that has sucked the lives out of ourselves, our
wives, and children, since the world began, if we have not the hearts of men
to stand against it, breast to breast and eye to eye, and force it backward till

it cry for mercy, it will go on sucking life, and we shall stay forever where
we are, less than the very dogs."

It is inevitable that compromise and petty interest should pass on and
leave two such giants behind. Inevitable, until the mass will reach the
stature of a David Roberts. Will it ever? Prophecy is not the vocation of the
dramatist, yet the moral lesson is evident. One cannot help realizing that the
workingmen will have to use methods hitherto unfamiliar to them; that they
will have to discard all those elements in their midst that are forever ready
to reconcile the irreconcilable, namely Capital and Labor. They will have to
learn that characters like David Roberts are the very forces that have
revolutionized the world and thus paved the way for emancipation out of
the clutches of that "white-faced monster with bloody lips," towards a
brighter horizon, a freer life, and a deeper recognition of human values.

No subject of equal social import has received such extensive
consideration within the last few years as the question of prison and
punishment.

Hardly any magazine of consequence that has not devoted its columns to
the discussion of this vital theme. A number of books by able writers, both
in America and abroad, have discussed this topic from the historic,
psychologic, and social standpoint, all agreeing that present penal
institutions and our mode of coping with crime have in every respect
proved inadequate as well as wasteful. One would expect that something
very radical should result from the cumulative literary indictment of the
social crimes perpetrated upon the prisoner. Yet with the exception of a few
minor and comparatively insignificant reforms in some of our prisons,
absolutely nothing has been accomplished. But at last this grave social
wrong has found dramatic interpretation in Galworthy's JUSTICE.

The play opens in the office of James How and Sons, Solicitors. The
senior clerk, Robert Cokeson, discovers that a check he had issued for nine
pounds has been forged to ninety. By elimination, suspicion falls upon
William Falder, the junior office clerk. The latter is in love with a married
woman, the abused, ill-treated wife of a brutal drunkard. Pressed by his
employer, a severe yet not unkindly man, Falder confesses the forgery,
pleading the dire necessity of his sweetheart, Ruth Honeywill, with whom

he had planned to escape to save her from the unbearable brutality of her
husband. Notwithstanding the entreaties of young Walter, who is touched by
modern ideas, his father, a moral and law-respecting citizen, turns Falder
over to the police.

The second act, in the court-room, shows Justice in the very process of
manufacture. The scene equals in dramatic power and psychologic verity
the great court scene in RESURRECTION. Young Falder, a nervous and
rather weakly youth of twenty-three, stands before the bar. Ruth, his
married sweetheart, full of love and devotion, burns with anxiety to save the
young man whose affection brought about his present predicament. The
young man is defended by Lawyer Frome, whose speech to the jury is a
masterpiece of deep social philosophy wreathed with the tendrils of human
understanding and sympathy. He does not attempt to dispute the mere fact
of Falder having altered the check; and though he pleads temporary
aberration in defense of his client, that plea is based upon a social
consciousness as deep and all-embracing as the roots of our social ills
—"the background of life, that palpitating life which always lies behind the
commission of a crime." He shows Falder to have faced the alternative of
seeing the beloved woman murdered by her brutal husband, whom she
cannot divorce; or of taking the law into his own hands. The defence pleads
with the jury not to turn the weak young man into a criminal by
condemning him to prison, for "justice is a machine that, when someone has
given it a starting push, rolls on of itself.... Is this young man to be ground
to pieces under this machine for an act which, at the worst, was one of
weakness? Is he to become a member of the luckless crews that man those
dark, ill-starred ships called prisons?... I urge you, gentlemen, do not ruin
this young man. For as a result of those four minutes, ruin, utter and
irretrievable, stares him in the face.... The rolling of the chariot wheels of
Justice over this boy began when it was decided to prosecute him."

But the chariot of Justice rolls mercilessly on, for—as the learned Judge
says—"the law is what it is—a majestic edifice, sheltering all of us, each
stone of which rests on another."

Falder is sentenced to three years' penal servitude.

In prison, the young, inexperienced convict soon finds himself the victim
of the terrible "system." The authorities admit that young Falder is mentally
and physically "in bad shape," but nothing can be done in the matter: many
others are in a similar position, and "the quarters are inadequate."

The third scene of the third act is heart-gripping in its silent force. The
whole scene is a pantomime, taking place in Falder's prison cell.

"In fast-falling daylight, Falder, in his stockings, is seen standing
motionless, with his head inclined towards the door, listening. He moves a
little closer to the door, his stockinged feet making no noise. He stops at the
door. He is trying harder and harder to hear something, any little thing that
is going on outside. He springs suddenly upright—as if at a sound—and
remains perfectly motionless. Then, with a heavy sigh, he moves to his
work, and stands looking at it, with his head down; he does a stitch or two,
having the air of a man so lost in sadness that each stitch is, as it were, a
coming to life. Then, turning abruptly, he begins pacing his cell, moving his
head, like an animal pacing its cage. He stops again at the door, listens, and,
placing the palms of his hands against it with his fingers spread out, leans
his forehead against the iron. Turning from it, presently, he moves slowly
back towards the window, holding his head, as if he felt that it were going
to burst, and stops under the window. But since he cannot see out of it he
leaves off looking, and, picking up the lid of one of the tins, peers into it, as
if trying to make a companion of his own face. It has grown very nearly
dark. Suddenly the lid falls out of his hand with a clatter—the only sound
that has broken the silence—and he stands staring intently at the wall where
the stuff of the shirt is hanging rather white in the darkness—he seems to be
seeing somebody or something there. There is a sharp tap and click; the cell
light behind the glass screen has been turned up. The cell is brightly lighted.
Falder is seen gasping for breath.

A sound from far away, as of distant, dull beating on thick metal, is
suddenly audible. Falder shrinks back, not able to bear this sudden clamor.
But the sound grows, as though some great tumbril were rolling towards the
cell. And gradually it seems to hypnotize him. He begins creeping inch by
inch nearer to the door. The banging sound, traveling from cell to cell,
draws closer and closer; Falder's hands are seen moving as if his spirit had

already joined in this beating, and the sound swells till it seems to have
entered the very cell. He suddenly raises his clenched fists. Panting
violently, he flings himself at his door, and beats on it."

Finally Falder leaves the prison, a broken ticket-of-leave man, the stamp
of the convict upon his brow, the iron of misery in his soul. Thanks to
Ruth's pleading, the firm of James How and Son is willing to take Falder
back in their employ, on condition that he give up Ruth. It is then that
Falder learns the awful news that the woman he loves had been driven by
the merciless economic Moloch to sell herself. She "tried making skirts ...
cheap things.... I never made more than ten shillings a week, buying my
own cotton, and working all day. I hardly ever got to bed till past twelve....
And then ... my employer happened—he's happened ever since." At this
terrible psychologic moment the police appear to drag him back to prison
for failing to report himself as ticket-of-leave man. Completely
overwhelmed by the inexorability of his environment, young Falder seeks
and finds peace, greater than human justice, by throwing himself down to
death, as the detectives are taking him back to prison.

It would be impossible to estimate the effect produced by this play.
Perhaps some conception can be gained from the very unusual circumstance
that it had proved so powerful as to induce the Home Secretary of Great
Britain to undertake extensive prison reforms in England. A very
encouraging sign this, of the influence exerted by the modern drama. It is to
be hoped that the thundering indictment of Mr. Galsworthy will not remain
without similar effect upon the public sentiment and prison conditions of
America. At any rate, it is certain that no other modern play has borne such
direct and immediate fruit in wakening the social conscience.

Another modern play, THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE, strikes a vital
key in our social life. The hero of Mr. Kennedy's masterpiece is Robert, a
coarse, filthy drunkard, whom respectable society has repudiated. Robert,
the sewer cleaner, is the real hero of the play; nay, its true and only savior. It
is he who volunteers to go down into the dangerous sewer, so that his
comrades "can 'ave light and air." After all, has he not sacrificed his life
always, so that others may have light and air?

The thought that labor is the redeemer of social well-being has been
cried from the housetops in every tongue and every clime. Yet the simple
words of Robert express the significance of labor and its mission with far
greater potency.

America is still in its dramatic infancy. Most of the attempts along this
line to mirror life, have been wretched failures. Still, there are hopeful signs
in the attitude of the intelligent public toward modern plays, even if they be
from foreign soil.

The only real drama America has so far produced is THE EASIEST
WAY, by Eugene Walter.

It is supposed to represent a "peculiar phase" of New York life. If that
were all, it would be of minor significance. That which gives the play its
real importance and value lies much deeper. It lies, first, in the fundamental
current of our social fabric which drives us all, even stronger characters
than Laura, into the easiest way—a way so very destructive of integrity,
truth, and justice. Secondly, the cruel, senseless fatalism conditioned in
Laura's sex. These two features put the universal stamp upon the play, and
characterize it as one of the strongest dramatic indictments against society.

The criminal waste of human energy, in economic and social conditions,
drives Laura as it drives the average girl to marry any man for a "home"; or
as it drives men to endure the worst indignities for a miserable pittance.

Then there is that other respectable institution, the fatalism of Laura's
sex. The inevitability of that force is summed up in the following words:
"Don't you know that we count no more in the life of these men than tamed
animals? It's a game, and if we don't play our cards well, we lose." Woman
in the battle with life has but one weapon, one commodity—sex. That alone
serves as a trump card in the game of life.

This blind fatalism has made of woman a parasite, an inert thing. Why
then expect perseverance or energy of Laura? The easiest way is the path
mapped out for her from time immemorial. She could follow no other.

A number of other plays could be quoted as characteristic of the growing
role of the drama as a disseminator of radical thought. Suffice to mention
THE THIRD DEGREE, by Charles Klein; THE FOURTH ESTATE, by
Medill Patterson; A MAN'S WORLD, by Ida Croutchers,—all pointing to
the dawn of dramatic art in America, an art which is discovering to the
people the terrible diseases of our social body.

It has been said of old, all roads lead to Rome. In paraphrased
application to the tendencies of our day, it may truly be said that all roads
lead to the great social reconstruction. The economic awakening of the
workingman, and his realization of the necessity for concerted industrial
action; the tendencies of modern education, especially in their application to
the free development of the child; the spirit of growing unrest expressed
through, and cultivated by, art and literature, all pave the way to the Open
Road. Above all, the modern drama, operating through the double channel
of dramatist and interpreter, affecting as it does both mind and heart, is the
strongest force in developing social discontent, swelling the powerful tide
of unrest that sweeps onward and over the dam of ignorance, prejudice, and
superstition.

[1] HONOR.

[2] MAGDA.

[3] BEFORE SUNRISE.

[4] THE WEAVERS.

[5] THE SUNKEN BELL.

[6] YOUTH.

[7] THE AWAKENING OF SPRING.

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