Reflections on Violence/Chapter 6

by Georges Sorel

CHAPTER VI

THE ETHICS OF VIOLENCE

  I. Observations of P. Bureau and of P. de Rousiers—The era of martyrs—Possibility of maintaining the cleavage with very little violence, thanks to a catastrophic myth.

 II. Old habits of brutality in schools and workshops—The dangerous classes—Indulgence for crimes of cunning—Informers.

III. Law of 1884 passed to intimidate Conservative —Part played by Millerand in the Waldeck-Rousseau ministry—Motives behind present ideas on arbitration.

 IV. Search for the sublime in morality—Proudhon—No moral development in Trade Unionism—The "sublime" in Germany and the catastrophic conception.

I

There are so many legal precautions against violence, and our upbringing is directed towards so weakening our tendencies towards violence, that we are instinctively inclined to think that any act of violence is a manifestation of a return to barbarism. Peace has always been considered the greatest of blessings and the essential condition of all material progress, and it is for this reason that industrial societies have so often been contrasted favourably with military ones. This last point of view explains why, almost uninterruptedly since the eighteenth century, economists have been in favour of strong central authorities, and have troubled little about political liberties. Condorcet levels this reproach at the followers of Quesnay, and Napoleon III. had probably no greater admirer than Michel Chevalier.^[1]

It may be questioned whether there is not a little stupidity in the admiration of our contemporaries for gentle methods. I see, in fact, that several authors, remarkable for their perspicacity and their interest in the ethical side of every question, do not seem to have the same fear of violence as our official professors.

P. Bureau was extremely surprised to find in Norway a rural population which had remained profoundly Christian. The peasants, nevertheless, carried a dagger at their belt; when a quarrel ended in a stabbing affray, the police enquiry generally came to nothing for lack of witnesses ready to come forward and give evidence.

The author concludes thus: "In men, a soft and effeminate character is more to be feared than their feeling of independence, however exaggerated and brutal, and a stab given by a man who is virtuous in his morals, but violent, is a social evil less serious and more easily curable than the excessive profligacy of young men reputed to be more civilised."^[2]

I borrow a second example from P. de Rousiers, who, like P. Bureau, is a fervent Catholic and interested especially in the moral side of all questions. He narrates how, towards 1860, the country of Denver, the great mining centre of the Rocky Mountains, was cleared of the bandits who infested it; the American magistracy being impotent, courageous citizens undertook the work. "Lynch law was frequently put into operation; a man accused of murder or of theft might be arrested, condemned and hanged in less than a quarter of an hour, if an energetic Vigilance Committee could get hold of him. The American who happens to be honest has one excellent habit—he does not allow himself to be crushed on the pretext that he is virtuous. A law-abiding man is not necessarily a craven, as is often the case with us; on the contrary, he is convinced that his interests ought to be considered before those of an habitual criminal or of a gambler. Moreover, he possesses the necessary energy to resist, and the kind of life which he leads makes him capable of resisting effectively, even of taking the initiative and the responsibility of a serious step when circumstances demand it. … Such a man, placed in a new country, full of natural resources, wishing to take advantage of the riches it contains and to acquire a superior situation in life by his labour, will not hesitate to suppress, in the name of the higher interests he represents, the bandits who compromise the future of this country. That is why, twenty-five years ago at Denver, so many corpses were dangling above the little wooden bridge thrown across Cherry Creek."^[3]

This is a considered opinion of P. de Rousiers, for he returns elsewhere to this question. "I know," he says, "that lynch law is generally considered in France as a symptom of barbarism …; but if honest virtuous people in Europe think thus, virtuous people in America think quite otherwise."^[4] He highly approved of the Vigilance Committee of New Orleans which, in 1890, "to the great satisfaction of all virtuous people," hanged maffiosi acquitted by the jury.^[5]

In Corsica, at the time when the vendetta was the regular means of supplying the deficiencies or correcting the action of a too halting justice, the people do not appear to have been less moral than to-day. Before the French conquest, Kabylie had no other means of punishment but private vengeance, yet the Kabyles were not a bad people.

It may be conceded to those in favour of mild methods that violence may hamper economic progress, and even, when it goes beyond a certain limit, that it is a danger to morality. This concession cannot be used as an argument against the doctrine set forth here, because I consider violence only from the point of view of its influence on social theories. It is, in fact, certain that a great development of brutality accompanied by much blood-letting is quite unnecessary in order to induce the workers to look upon economic conflicts as the reduced facsimiles of the great battle which will decide the future. If a capitalist class is energetic, it is constantly affirming its determination to defend itself; its frank and consistently reactionary attitude contributes at least as greatly as proletarian violence towards keeping distinct that cleavage between the classes which is the basis of all Socialism.

 

We may make use here of the great historical example provided by the persecutions which Christians were obliged to suffer during the first centuries. Modern authors have been so struck by the language of the Fathers of the Church, and by the details given in the Acts of the Martyrs, that they have generally imagined the Christians as outlaws whose blood was continually being spilt. The cleavage between the pagan world and the Christian world was extraordinarily well marked; without this cleavage the latter would never have acquired all its characteristic features; but this cleavage was maintained by a combination of circumstances very different from that formerly imagined.

Nobody believes any longer that the Christians took refuge in subterranean quarries in order to escape the searches of the police; the catacombs were dug out at great expense by communities with large resources at their disposal, under land belonging generally to powerful families which protected the new cult. Nobody has any doubt now that before the end of the first century Christianity had its followers among the Roman aristocracy; "in the very ancient catacomb of Priscilla … has been found the family vault in which was buried from the first to the fourth century the Christian line of the Acilii."^[6] It seems also that the old belief that the number of the martyrdoms was very great must be abandoned.

Renan still asserted that the literature of martyrdom should be taken seriously. "The details of the Acts of the Martyrs," he said, "may be false for the most part; the dreadful picture which they unroll before us was nevertheless a reality. The true nature of this terrible struggle has often been misconceived, but its seriousness has not been exaggerated."^[7] The researches of Harnack lead to quite another conclusion: the language of the Christian authors was entirely disproportionate to the actual importance of the persecutions; there were very few martyrs before the middle of the third century. Tertullian is the writer who has most strongly indicated the horror which the new religion felt for its persecutors, and yet here is what Harnack says: "If, with the help of the works of Tertullian, we consider Carthage and Northern Africa we shall find that before the year 180 there was in those regions no case of martyrdom, and that from that year to the death of Tertullian (after 220), and adding Numidia and the Mauritanias, scarcely more than two dozen could be counted."^[8] It must be remembered that at that time there was in Africa a rather large number of Montanists, who extolled the glory of martyrdom, and denied that any one had the right to fly from persecution.

P. Allard combats Harnack's proposition with arguments which seem to me somewhat weak.^[9] He is unable to understand the enormous difference which probably exists between the reality of the persecutions and the conceptions which the persecuted formed of them. "The Christians," says the German professor, "were able to complain of being persecuted flocks, and yet such persecution was exceptional; they were able to look upon themselves as models of heroism, and yet they were rarely put to the proof; and I call attention to the end of this sentence: "They were able to place themselves above the grandeurs of the world, and yet at the same time to make themselves more and more at home in it."^[10]

There is something paradoxical at first sight in the situation of the Church, which had its followers in the upper classes, who were obliged to make many concessions to custom, and who yet could hold beliefs based on the idea of an absolute cleavage. The inscriptions on the catacomb of Priscilla prove "the continuance of the faith through a series of generations of the Acilii, among whom were to be found not only consuls and magistrates of the highest order, but also priests, priestesses, even children, members of illustrious idolatrous colleges, reserved by privilege for patricians and their sons."^[11] If the Christian system of ideas had been rigorously based on actual facts, such a paradox would have been impossible.

The statistics of persecutions therefore play no great part in this question; what was of much greater importance than the frequency of the torments were the remarkable occurrences which took place during the scenes of martyrdom. The Christian ideology was based on these rather rare but very heroic events; there was no necessity for the martyrdoms to be numerous in order to prove, by the test of experience, the absolute truth of the new religion and the absolute error of the old, to establish thus that there were two incompatible ways, and to make it clear that the reign of evil would come to an end. "In spite of the small number of martyrs," says Hamack, "we may estimate at its true value the courage needed to become a Christian and to live as one. Above all else we ought to praise the conviction of the martyr whom a word or a gesture could save, and who preferred death to such freedom."^[12] Contemporaries who saw in martyrdom a judicial proof, testifying to the honour of Christ,^[13] drew from these facts quite other conclusions than those which a modern historian, whose mind runs in modern grooves, might draw from them; no ideology was ever more remote from the facts than that of the early Christians.

The Roman administration dealt very severely with any one who showed a tendency to disturb the public peace, especially with any accused person who defied its majesty. In striking down from time to time a few Christians who had been denounced to it (for reasons which have generally remained hidden from us) it did not think that it was accomplishing an act which would ever interest posterity; it seems that the general public itself hardly ever took any great notice of these punishments; and this explains why the persecutions left scarcely any trace on pagan literature. The pagans had no reason to attach to martyrdom the extraordinary importance which the faithful and those who already sympathised with them attached to it.

This ideology would certainly not have been formed in so paradoxical a manner had it not been for the firm belief that people had in the catastrophes described by the numerous apocalypses which were composed at the end of the first century and at the beginning of the second; it was the conviction of all that the world was to be delivered up completely to the reign of evil, and that Christ would then come and give the final victory to His elect. Any case of persecution borrowed from the mythology of the Antichrist something of its dread dramatic character; instead of being valued on its actual importance as a misfortune which had befallen a few individuals, a lesson for the community, or a temporary check on propaganda, it became an incident of the war carried on by Satan, prince of this world, who was soon to reveal his Antichrist. Thus the cleavage sprang at the same time from the persecutions and from the feverish expectation of a decisive battle. When Christianity had developed sufficiently, the apocalyptic literature ceased to be cultivated to any extent; although the root idea contained therein still continued to exercise its influence, the Acts of the Martyrs were drawn up in such a way that they might excite the same feelings that the apocalypses excited; it may be said that they replaced these:^[14] we sometimes find in the literature of the persecutions, set down as clearly as in the apocalypses, the horror which the faithful felt for the ministers of Satan who persecuted them.^[15]

It is possible, therefore, to conceive Socialism as being perfectly revolutionary, although there may only be a few short conflicts, provided that these have strength enough to evoke the idea of the general strike: all the events of the conflict will then appear under a magnified form, and the idea of catastrophe being maintained, the cleavage will be perfect. Thus one objection often urged against revolutionary Socialism may be set aside—there is no danger of civilisation succumbing under the consequences of a development of brutality, since the idea of the general strike may foster the notion of the class war by means of incidents which would appear to middle-class historians as of small importance.

 

When the governing classes, no longer daring to govern, are ashamed of their privileged situation, are eager to make advances to their enemies, and proclaim their horror of all cleavage in society, it becomes much more difficult to maintain in the minds of the proletariat this idea of cleavage which without Socialism cannot fulfil its historical rôle. So much the better, declare the worthy progressives; we may then hope that the future of the world will not be left in the hands of brutes who do not even respect the State, who laugh at the lofty ideas of the middle class, and who have no more admiration for the professional expounders of lofty thought than for priests. Let us therefore do more and more every day for the disinherited, say these gentlemen; let us show ourselves more Christian, more philanthropic, or more democratic (according to the temperament of each); let us unite for the accomplishment of social duty. We shall thus get the better of these dreadful Socialists, who think it possible to destroy the prestige of the Intellectuals now that the Intellectuals have destroyed that of the Church. As a matter of fact, these cunning moral combinations have failed; it is not difficult to see why.

The specious reasoning of these gentlemen—the pontiffs of "social duty"—supposes that violence cannot increase, and may even diminish in proportion as the Intellectuals unbend to the masses and make platitudes and grimaces in honour of the union of the classes. Unfortunately for these great thinkers, things do not happen in this way; violence does not diminish in the proportion that it should diminish according to the principles of advanced sociology. There are, in fact. Socialist scoundrels, who, profiting by middle-class cowardice, entice the masses into a movement which every day becomes less like that which ought to result from the sacrifices consented to by the middle class in order to obtain peace. If they dared, the sociologists would declare that the Socialists cheat and use unfair methods, so little do the facts come up to their expectations.

However, it was only to be expected that the Socialists would not allow themselves to be beaten without having used all the resources which the situation offered them. People who have devoted their life to a cause which they identify with the regeneration of the world, could not hesitate to make use of any weapon which might serve to develop to a greater degree the spirit of the class war, seeing that greater efforts were being made to suppress it. Existing social conditions favour the production of an infinite number of acts of violence, and there has been no hesitation in urging the workers not to refrain from brutality when this might do them service. Philanthropic members of the middle class having given a kindly reception to members of the syndicates who were willing to come and discuss matters with them, in the hope that these workmen, proud of their aristocratic acquaintances, would give peaceful advice to their comrades, it is not to be wondered their fellow-workmen soon suspected them of treachery when they became upholders of "social reform." Finally, and this is the most remarkable fact in the whole business, anti-patriotism becomes an essential element of the Syndicalist programme.^[16]

The introduction of anti-patriotism into the working-class movement is all the more remarkable because it came just when the Government was about to put its theories about the solidarity of the classes into practice. It was in vain that Léon Bourgeois approached the proletariat with particularly amiable airs and graces; in vain that he assured the workers that capitalist society was one great family, and that the poor had a right to share in the general riches; he maintained that the whole of contemporary legislation was directed towards the application of the principles of solidarity; the proletariat replied to him by denying the social compact in the most brutal fashion—by denying the duty of patriotism. At the moment when it seemed that a means of suppressing the class war had been found, behold, it springs up again in a particularly displeasing form.^[17]

 

Thus all the efforts of the worthy progressives only brought about results in fiat contradiction with their aims; it is enough to make one despair of sociology! If they had any common sense, and if they really desired to protect society against an increase of brutality, they would not drive the Socialists into the necessity of adopting the tactics which are forced on them to-day; they would remain quiet instead of devoting themselves to "social duty"; they would bless the propagandists of the general strike, who, as a matter of fact, endeavour to render the maintenance of Socialism compatible with the minimum of brutality. But these well-intentioned people are not blessed with common sense; and they have yet to suffer many blows, many humiliations, and many losses of money, before they decide to allow Socialism to follow its own course.

II

We must now carry our investigations farther, and enquire what are the motives behind the great aversion felt by moralists for acts of violence; a very brief summary of a few very curious changes which have taken place in the manners of the working classes is first of all indispensable.

 

A. I observe, in the first place, that nothing is more remarkable than the change which has taken place in the methods of bringing up children; formerly it was believed that the rod was the most necessary instrument of the schoolmaster; nowadays corporal punishments have disappeared from our public elementary schools. I believe that the competition which the latter had to maintain against the Church schools played a very great part in this progress; the Brothers applied the old principles of clerical pedagogy with extreme severity; and these, as is well known, involve an excessive amount of corporal punishment inflicted for the purpose of taming the demon who prompted so many of the child's bad habits.^[18] The Government was intelligent enough to set up in opposition to this barbarous system a milder form of education which brought it a great deal of sympathy; it is not at all improbable that the severity of clerical punishments is largely responsible for the present tumult of hatred against which the Church is struggling with such difficulty. In 1901 I wrote: "If (the Church) were well advised, it would suppress entirely that part of its activities which is devoted to children; it would do away with its schools and workshops; it would thus do away with the principal sources of anti-clericalism: far from showing any desire to adopt this course, it seems to be its intention to develop these establishments still further, and thus it is laying up for itself still further opportunities for displays of popular hatred for the clergy."^[19] What has happened since 1901 surpasses my forecast.

In factories and workshops customs of great brutality formerly existed, especially in those where it was necessary to employ men of superior strength, to whom was given the name of "grosses culottes" (big breeches); in the end these men managed to get entrusted with the task of engaging other men, because "any individual taken on by others was subjected to an infinite number of humiliations and insults"; the man who wished to enter their workshop had to buy them drink, and on the following day to treat all his fellow-workers. "The notorious When's it to be? (Quand est-ce?)^[20] would be started; everybody gets tipsy. … When's it to be? is the devourer of savings; in a workshop where When's it to be? is the custom, you must stand your turn or beware." Denis Poulot, from whom I borrow these details, observes that machinery did away with the prestige of the grosses culottes, who were scarcely more than a memory when he wrote in 1870.^[21]

The manners of the compagnonnages^[22] (a kind of trade union) were for a long time remarkable for their brutality. Before 1840 there were constant brawls, often ending in bloodshed, between groups with different rites. Martin Saint Léon, in his book on the compagnonnage, gives extracts from really barbarous songs.^[23] Initiation into the lodge was accompanied by the severest tests; young men were treated as if they were pariahs in the "Devoirs de Jacques et de Subise":^[24] "Compagnons (carpenters) have been known," says Perdiguier, "to call themselves the Scourge of the Foxes (candidates for admission), the Terror of the Foxes. … In the provinces, a 'fox' rarely works in the towns; he is hunted back, as they say, into the brushwood."^[25] There were many secessions when the tyranny of the companions came into opposition with the more liberal habits which prevailed in society. When the workers were no longer in need of protection, especially for the purpose of finding work, they were no longer so willing to submit to the demands which had formerly seemed to be of little consequence in comparison with the advantages of the compagnonnage. The struggle for work more than once brought candidates into opposition with companions who wished to reserve certain privileges.^[26] We might find still other reasons to explain the decline of an institution which, while rendering many important services, had contributed very much to maintaining the idea of brutality.

Everybody agrees that the disappearance of these old brutalities is an excellent thing. From this opinion it was so easy to pass to the idea that all violence is an evil, that this step was bound to have been taken; and, in fact, the great mass of the people, who are not accustomed to thinking, have come to this conclusion, which is accepted nowadays as a dogma by the bleating herd of moralists. They have not asked themselves what there is in brutality which is reprehensible.

When we no longer remain content with current stupidity we discover that our ideas about the disappearance of violence depend much more on a very important transformation which has taken place in the criminal world than on ethical principles. I shall endeavour to prove this.

 

B. Middle-class scientists are very chary of touching on anything relating to the dangerous classes;^[27] that is one of the reasons why their observations on the history of morals always remain superficial; it is not very difficult to see that it is a knowledge of these classes which alone enables us to penetrate the mysteries of the moral thought of peoples.

The dangerous classes of past times practised the simplest form of offence, that which was nearest to hand, that which is nowadays left to groups of young scoundrels without experience and without judgment. Offences of brutality seem to us nowadays something abnormal; so much so, that when the brutality has been great we often ask ourselves whether the culprit is in possession of all his senses. This transformation has evidently not come about because criminals have become moral, but because they have changed their method of procedure to suit the new economic conditions, as we shall see farther on. This change has had the greatest influence on popular thought.

We all know that by using brutality, associations of criminals manage to maintain excellent discipline among themselves. When we see a child ill-treated we instinctively suppose that its parents have criminal habits. The methods used by the old schoolmasters, which the ecclesiastical houses persist in preserving, are those of vagabonds who steal children to make clever acrobats or interesting beggars of them. Everything which reminds us of the habits of dangerous classes of former times is extremely odious to us.

There is a tendency for the old ferocity to be replaced by cunning, and many sociologists believe that this is a real progress. Some philosophers who are not in the habit of following the opinions of the herd, do not see exactly how this constitutes progress, from the point of view of morals: "If we are revolted by the cruelty, by the brutality of past times," says Hartmann, "it must not be forgotten that uprightness, sincerity, a lively sentiment of justice, pious respect before holiness of morals characterised the ancient peoples; while nowadays we see predominant lies, duplicity, treachery, the spirit of chicane, the contempt for property, disdain for instinctive probity and legitimate customs—the value of which is not even understood.^[28] Robbery, deceit, and fraud increase in spite of legal repression more rapidly than brutal and violent crimes, like pillage, murder, and rape, etc., decrease. Egoism of the basest kind shamelessly breaks the sacred bonds of the family and friendship in every case in which these oppose its desires."^[29]

At the present time money losses are generally looked upon as accidents to which we are constantly exposed and easily made good again, while bodily accidents are not so easily reparable. Fraud is therefore regarded as infinitely less serious than brutality; criminals benefit from this change which has come about in legal sentences.

Our penal code was drawn up at a time when the citizen was pictured as a rural proprietor occupied solely with the administration of his property, as a good family man, saving to secure an honourable position for his children; large fortunes made in business, in politics, or by speculation were rare and were looked on as real monstrosities; the defence of the savings of the middle classes was one of the first concerns of the legislator. The previous judicial system had been still more severe in the punishment of fraud, for a royal declaration of August 5, 1725, punished a fraudulent bankrupt with death; it would be difiicult to imagine anything further removed from our customs. We are now inclined to consider that offences of this sort can, as a rule, only be committed as the result of the imprudence of the victims, and that it is only exceptionally that they deserve severe penalties; we, on the contrary, content ourselves with light punishment.

In a rich community where business is on a very large scale, and in which everybody is wide awake in defence of his own interests, as in America, crimes of fraud never have the same consequences as in a community which is forced to practise rigid economy; as a matter of fact, these crimes seldom cause a serious and lasting disturbance in the economic system; it is for this reason that Americans put up with the excesses of their politicians and financiers with so little complaint. P. de Rousiers compares the American to the captain of a ship who, during a dangerous voyage, has no time to look after his thieving cook. "When you point out to Americans that they are being robbed by their politicians, they usually reply, 'Of course we are quite aware of that! But as long as business is good and politicians do not get in the way, it will not be very difficult for them to escape the punishment they deserve.'"^[30]

In Europe also, since it has become easy to gain money, ideas, analogous to those current in America, have spread among us. Great company promoters have been able to escape pimishment because in their hour of success they were clever enough to make friends in all circles. We have finally come to believe that it would be extremely unjust to condemn bankrupt merchants and lawyers who retire ruined after moderate catastrophes, while the princes of financial swindling continue to lead gay lives. Gradually the new industrial system has created a new and extraordinary indulgence for all crimes of fraud in the great capitalist countries.^[31]

In those countries where the old parsimonious and non-speculative family economy still prevails, the relative estimation of acts of fraud and acts of brutality has not followed the same evolution as in America, England, and France; this is why Germany has preserved so many of the customs of former times,^[32] and does not feel the same horror that we do for brutal punishments; these never seem to them, as they do to us, only suitable to the most dangerous classes.

Many philosophers have protested against this mitigation of sentences; after what we have related earlier about Hartmann, we shall expect to meet him among those who protest. "We are already," he says, "approaching the time when theft and lying condemned by law will be despised as vulgar errors, as gross clumsiness, by the clever cheats who know how to preserve the letter of the law while infringing the rights of other people. For my part, I would much rather live amongst the ancient Germans, at the risk of being killed on occasion, than be obliged, as I am in modern cities, to look on every man as a swindler or a rogue unless I have evident proofs of his honesty."^[33] Hartmann takes no account of economic conditions; he argues from an entirely personal point of view, and never looks at what goes on round him. Nobody to-day wants to run the risk of being slain by ancient Germans; fraud or a theft are very easily reparable.

 

C. Finally, in order to get to the heart of contemporary thought on this matter, it is necessary to examine the way in which the public judges the relations existing between the State and the criminal associations. Such relations have always existed; these associations, after having practised violence, have ended by employing craft alone, or at least their acts of violence have become somewhat exceptional.

Nowadays we should think it very strange if the magistrates were to put themselves at the head of armed bands, as they did in Rome during the last years of the Republic. In the course of the Zola trial, the Anti-Semites recruited bands of paid demonstrators, who were commissioned to manifest patriotic indignation; the Government of Méline protected these antics, which for some months had considerable success and helped considerably in hindering a fair revision of the sentence on Dreyfus.

I believe that I am not mistaken in saying that these tactics of the partisans of the Church have been the principal cause of all the measures directed against Catholicism since 1901; the middle-class liberals would never have accepted these measures if they had not still been under the influence of the fear they had felt during the Dreyfus affair. The chief argument which Clemenceau used to stir up his followers to fight against the Church was that of fear; he never ceased to denounce the danger which the Republic ran in the continued existence of the Romish faction; the laws about the congregations, about education and the administration of the churches were made with the object of preventing the Catholic party again taking up its former warlike attitude, which Anatol France so often compared to that of the League;^[34] they were laws inspired by fear. Many Conservatives felt this so strongly that they regarded with displeasure the resistance recently opposed to the inventories of churches; they considered that the employment of bands of pious apaches would make the middle classes still more hostile to their cause.^[35] It was not a little surprising to see Brunetière, who had been one of the admirers of the anti-Dreyfus apaches, advise submission; this was because experience had enlightened him as to the consequences of violence.

Associations which work by craft provoke no such reactions in the public; in the time of the "clerical republic,"^[36] the society of Saint Vincent de Paul was an excellent centre of surveillance over officials of every order and grade; it is not surprising, then, that free-masonry has been able to render services to the Radical Government of exactly the same kind as those which Catholic philanthropy was able to render to former Governments. The history of recent spying scandals has shown very plainly what the point of view of the country actually was.

When the nationalists obtained possession of the documents containing information about officers of the army, which had been compiled by the dignitaries of the masonic lodges, they believed that their opponents were lost; the panic which prevailed in the Radical camp for some time seemed to justify their hopes, but before long the democracy showed only derision for what they called the "petty virtue" of those who publicly denounced the methods of General André and his accomplices. In those difficult days Henry Bérenger showed that he understood admirably the ethical standards of his contemporaries; he did not hesitate to approve of what he called the "legitimate supervision of the governing classes exercised by the organisations of the vanguard"; he denounced the cowardice of the Government which had "allowed those who had undertaken the difficult task of opposing the military caste and the Roman Church, of examining and denouncing them, to be branded as informers" (Action, Oct. 31, 1904); he loaded with insults the few Dreyfusards who dared to show their indignation; the attitude of Joseph Reinach appeared particularly scandalous to him; in his opinion the latter should have felt himself extremely honoured by being tolerated in the "League of the Rights of Man," which had decided at last to lead "the good fight for the defence of rights of the citizen, sacrificed too long to those of one man" (Action, Dec. 12, 1904). Finally, a law of amnesty was voted declaring that no one wanted to hear anything more of these trifles.

There was some opposition in the provinces,^[37] but was it very serious? I am inclined to think not, when I read the documents published by Peguy in the ninth number of the sixth series of his Cahiers de la quinzaine. Several people, accustomed to speaking a verbose, sonorous, and nonsensical language, doubtless found themselves a little uncomfortable under the smiles of the leading grocers and eminent chemists who constituted the élite of the learned and musical societies before which they had been accustomed to hold forth on Justice, Truth, and Light. They found it necessary to adopt a stoical attitude.

Could anything be finer than this passage from a letter of Professor Bougie, an eminent doctor of social science, which I find on page 13: "I am very happy to learn that at last the League is going to speak. Its silence astonishes and frightens us." He must be a man who is easily astonished and frightened! Francis de Pressensé also suffered some anxiety of mind—he is a specialist in that kind of thing—but his feelings were of a very distinguished kind, as is only proper for an aristocratic Socialist; he was afraid that democracy was threatened with a new guillotine sèche.^[38] resembling that which had done so much harm to virtuous democrats during the Panama scandal.^[39] When he saw that the public quietly accepted the complicity of the Government with a philanthropic association which had turned into a criminal association, he hurled his avenging thunders against the protestors. Among the most comical of these protestors I pick out a political pastor of St-Etienne called L. Comte. He wrote, in the extraordinary language employed by the members of the League of the Rights of Man: "I had hoped that the [Dreyfus] affair would have definitely cured us of the moral malaria from which we suffer, and that it would have cleansed the republican conscience of the clerical virus with which it was impregnated. It has done nothing. We are more clerical than ever."^[40] Accordingly this austere man remained in the League! Protestant and middle-class logic! It is always possible, you see, that the League might one of these days be able to render some small service to the deserving ministers of the Gospel.

I have insisted rather lengthily on these grotesque incidents because they seem to me to characterise very aptly the moral ideas of the people who claim to lead us. Henceforth it must be taken for granted that politico-criminal associations which work by craft have a recognised place in any democracy that has attained its maturity. P. de Rousiers believes that America will one day cure itself of the evils which result from the guilty manœuvres of its politicians. Ostrogorski, after making a long and minute inquiry into "Democracy, and the organisation of political parties," believes that he has found remedies which will enable modern states to free themselves from exploitation by political parties. These are platonic vows; no historical experience justifies the hope that a democracy can be made to work in a capitalist country, without the criminal abuses experienced everywhere nowadays. When Rousseau demanded that the democracy should not tolerate the existence in its midst of any private association, he reasoned from his knowledge of the republics of the Middle Ages; he knew that part of history better than his contemporaries did, and was struck with the enormous part played at that time by the politico-criminal associations; he asserted the impossibility of reconciling a rational democracy with the existence of such forces, but we ought to learn from experience that there is no way of bringing about their disappearance.^[41]

 

III

The preceding explanations enable us to understand the ideas about the proper function of the worker's syndicates formed by the enlightened democrats and the worthy progressives. Waldeck-Rousseau has often been congratulated on having carried the law on syndicates in 1884. In order to give an account of what was expected from this law we must recall the situation of France at that epoch. Severe financial embarrassments had compelled the Government to sign agreements with the railway companies which the Radicals denounced as acts of brigandage; the colonial policy gave opportunities for extremely violent attacks and was thoroughly unpopular;^[42] the discontent which a few years later took the form of Boulangism was already very marked, and in the elections of 1885 very nearly gave a majority to the Conservatives.

Waldeck-Rousseau, without being a very profound seer, was yet sharp enough to understand the danger which might threaten the opportunist republic, and cynical enough to look for a means of defence in a politicocriminal association capable of checkmating the Conservatives.

At the time of the Empire the Government had tried to manipulate the benefit societies in such a way as to control the employes and a section of the artisans. Later on, it believed it might be possible to find, in the workmen's associations, a weapon with which it might be capable of ruining the authority which the Liberal party had with the people, and terrorising the rich classes, who had obstinately opposed the Government since 1863. Waldeck-Rousseau was inspired by these examples and hoped to organise among the workmen a hierarchy under the direction of the police.^[43]

In a circular of August 25, 1884, Waldeck-Rousseau explained to the prefects that they ought not to confine themselves to their too limited function of enforcing respect for the law; they must stimulate the spirit of association and "smooth away the difficulties which were bound to arise from inexperience and lack of practice in this new liberty," their task would be so much the more useful and important if they succeeded in inspiring greater confidence in the workmen; in diplomatic terms the Minister advised them to undertake the moral leadership of the Syndicalist movement.^[44] "Although the Government is not obliged by the law of 1884 to take any part in the search for the solutions of the great economic and social problems, it cannot be indifferent to them, and I am convinced that it is its duty to participate and to put its services and zeal at the disposal of all the parties concerned." It will be necessary to act with a great deal of prudence so as "not to excite mistrust," to show the workmen's associations how very much the Government interests itself in their development, and to advise them "when they make applications." The prefects must prepare themselves for "this rôle of counsellor and energetic collaborator by a thorough study of legislation, and of the similar organisations which exist in France and abroad."

In 1884 the Government did not in the least foresee that the syndicates might participate in a great revolutionary agitation, and the circular spoke with a certain irony of "the hypothetical peril of an anti-social federation of the whole of the workers." Nowadays one is very tempted to smile at the ingenuousness of the man who has so often been represented to us as the prince of cunning; but to account for his illusions it is necessary to go back to the writings of the democrats of that period. In 1887, in the preface to the third edition of Sublime, Denis Poulot, an experienced manufacturer, former mayor of the 11th arrondissement and a follower of Gambetta, said that the syndicates would kill strikes; he believed that the revolutionaries had no serious influence on the organised workmen, and he saw in the primary schools a sure means of bringing about the disappearance of Socialism; like nearly all the opportunists of that time, he was much more preoccupied with blacks than with reds.^[45] Yves Guyot himself does not seem to have had much more insight than Waldeck-Rousseau, because in his Morale (1883) he considered collectivism to be merely a word, he denounced the existing legislation which "aims at hindering the organisation of workmen for the sale of their labour at the highest possible price and for the discussion of their interests," and he expected that what the syndicates would lead to would be the "organisation of the sale of labour on a wholesale basis." He makes violent attacks on the priests, and the Chagot family is denounced because it forces the miners of Monceau to go to Mass.^[46] Everybody then counted on the working men's organisations to destroy the power of the clerical party.

If the Waldeck-Rousseau had had the slightest foresight, he would have perceived the advantage that the Conservatives have tried to draw from the law on syndicates, with a view to attempting the restoration of social peace in the country districts under their own leadership. For several years the peril which the Republic ran in the formation of an agrarian party has been denounced;^[47] the result has not answered to the hopes of the promoters of agricultural syndicates, but it might have been serious. Waldeck-Rousseau never suspected it for an instant; he does not seem, in his circular, to have suspected even the material services which the new associations would render to agriculture.^[48] If he had had any idea of what might come to pass, he would have taken precautions in the drawing up of the law; it is certain that neither the minister who drew up the law, nor the "rapporteur"^[49] understood the importance of the word "agricultural" which was introduced by means of an amendment proposed by D'Oudet, the senator for Doubs.^[50]

Workmen's associations directed by democrats, using cunning, threats, and sometimes even a certain amount of violence, could have been of the greatest service to the Government in the struggle against the Conservatives, then so threatening. Those people who have recently transformed Waldeck-Rousseau into the father of his country will probably protest against such a disrespectful interpretation of his policy; but this interpretation will not seem altogether improbable to the people who remember the cynicism with which he, who is now represented as a great Liberal, governed; one had the impression that France was about to enter on a régime which would recall the follies, the luxuries, and the brutality of the Cæsars. Moreover, when unforeseen circumstances brought back Waldeck-Rousseau to power, he immediately resumed his former policy and tried to use the syndicates against his adversaries.

 

In 1899 it was no longer possible to attempt to put the workmen's associations under the direction of the prefects in the way indicated by the circular of 1884; but there were other methods which might be tried, and in including Millerand in his ministry, Waldeck-Rousseau thought he had carried out a master-stroke. As Millerand had been able to make himself the leader of the Socialists, who had, until then, been divided into irreconcilable groups, might he not become the broker who would discreetly manipulate the syndicates by influencing their leaders? Every means of seduction was employed in order to bring the workmen to reason, and to inspire them with confidence in the higher officials of the "Government of Republican Defence."

One cannot help being reminded of the policy that Napoleon, in signing the Concordat, intended to follow; he had recognised that it would not be possible for him, as for Henry VIII., to directly influence the Church. "Failing that method," said Taine, "he adopts another, which leads to the same end. He does not want to change the opinions of his people, he respects spiritual things and wishes to control them without interfering with them and without becoming entangled himself in them; he wants to make them square with his policy, but by the influence of temporal things."^[51] In the same way, Millerand was commissioned to assure the workmen that their Socialist convictions would not be interfered with; the Government only wanted to direct the action of the syndicates and to make them fit in with its own policy.

Napoleon had said, "You will see how I shall be able to utilise the priests."^[52] Millerand was instructed to gratify in every way the vanity of the leaders of the syndicates,^[53] while the mission of the prefects was to induce the employers to grant material advantages to the workers; it was thought that this Napoleonic policy would give results as considerable as those obtained from the policy pursued in regard to the Church. Dumay, the Minister of Public Worship, had succeeded in creating a docile episcopacy formed of men whom the ardent Catholics contemptuously called the "préfets violets."^[54] Might it not be possible, by putting a shrewd principal clerk in the office of the minister, to create "préfets rouges." An this was fairly well thought out and corresponded perfectly with the kind of talent possessed by Waldeck-Rousseau, who was all his life a great partisan of the Concordat and was fond of negotiating with Rome. It was not unpleasing to him to negotiate with the reds; the very originality of the enterprise would have been enough to charm a mind like his, that delighted in subtlety.

In a speech on December 1, 1905, Marcel Sembat, who had been in a particularly good position to know how things happened in the time of Millerand, related several anecdotes which very much astounded the Chamber. He told them how the Government, in order to make itself disagreeable to the nationalist municipal councillors of Paris, and to reduce their influence on the Bourse du Travail,^[55] had asked the syndicates "to make applications to it that would justify" the reorganisation of that establishment. A certain amount of scandal was caused by the march past of the red flags before the official platform at the inauguration of the monument to Dalou in the Place de la Nation. We now know that this happened as the result of negotiations; the prefect of police had hesitated, but Waldeck-Rousseau had authorised these revolutionary ensigns. The fact that the Government denied having any relations with the syndicates is of no importance—a lie more or less would not trouble a politician of Waldeck-Rousseau's calibre.

The exposure of these manœuvres shows us that the ministry depended on the syndicates to frighten the Conservatives. Ever since then it has been easy to understand the attitude they have adopted in the course of several strikes: on the one hand, Waldeck-Rousseau proclaimed with great fervour the necessity of giving the protection of public force to every single workman who wished to work in spite of the strikers; on the other hand, he has more than once shut his eyes to acts of violence. The reason of this is, that he found it necessary to annoy and frighten the progressists,^[56] and because he meant to reserve to himself the right of forcible intervention at the moment when his political interests require the disappearance of all disorder. In the precarious state of his authority in the country he believed it possible to govern only by fear and by imposing himself as the supreme arbitrator in industrial disputes.^[57]

Since 1884 Waldeck-Rousseau's plan had been to transform the syndicates into politico-criminal associations which could serve as auxiliaries to the democratic Government. The syndicates were to play a part analogous to that played by the lodges, the latter being useful in spying on the officials, and the former designed to threatening the interests of those employers who were not on the side of the administration; the freemasons being rewarded by decorations and favours given to their friends, the workmen being authorised to extract extra wages from their employers. This poUcy was simple and cheap.

In order that this system may work properly, a certain moderation in the conduct of the workmen is necessary. Not only must violence be used with discretion, but the workmen's demands also must not exceed certain limits. The same principles must be applied in this case as in the case of the bribery of politicians. Everybody approves of that as long as the politicians are reasonable in their demands. People who are in business know that there is quite a complete art of bribery; certain intermediaries have acquired a special skill in estimating the amount of the presents that should be offered to high officials, or to deputies who can get bills passed. If financiers are almost always obliged to have recourse to the services of specialists, there is all the more reason why the workmen, who are quite unaccustomed to the customs of this world, must need intermediaries to fix the sum which they can exact from their employers without exceeding reasonable limits.^[58]

We are thus led to consider arbitration in an entirely new light and to understand it in a really scientific manner, since, instead of allowing ourselves to be duped by abstractions, we shall explain it by means of the dominant ideas of middle-class society, who invented it, and who want to impose it on the workers. It would be evidently absurd to go into a pork butcher's shop, order him to sell us a ham at less than the marked price, and then ask him to submit the question to arbitration; but it is not absurd to promise to a group of employers the advantages to be derived from the fixity of wages for several years, and to ask the specialists what present remuneration this guarantee is worth; this remuneration may be considerable if business is expected to be good during that time. Instead of bribing some influential person the employers raise their workmen's wages; from their point of view there is no difference. As for the Government, it becomes the benefactor of the people, and hopes that it will do well in the elections; to the politician, the electoral advantages which result from a successful conciliation are worth more than a very large bribe.

It is easy to understand now why all politicians have so great an admiration for arbitration; it is because an enterprise conducted without bribery is inconceivable to them. Many of our politicians are lawyers, and clients who confide their cases to them attach great weight to their Parliamentary influence. It is for this reason that a former Minister of Justice is always sure of getting remunerative law-suits even when he is not very talented, because he has means of influencing the magistrates, with whose failings he is very familiar, and whom he could ruin if he wished. The great political advocates are sought out by financiers who have serious difficulties to overcome in the law courts, who are accustomed to bribe on a large scale and in consequence pay royally. The world of employers thus appears to our rulers as a world of adventurers, gamblers, and parasites of the stock exchange; they consider that this rich and criminal class must expect to submit from time to time to the demands of other social groups. Their conception of the ideal capitalist society would be a compromise between conflicting appetites under the auspices of political lawyers.^[59]

The Catholics would not be sorry, now they are in opposition, to find support in the working classes. It is not only flattery that they address to the workers, in order to convince them that it would be greatly to their advantage to abandon the Socialists. They also would very much like to organise politico-criminal associations, just as Waldeck-Rousseau hoped to do twenty years ago; but the results they have obtained up till now have been very moderate. Their aim is to save the Church, and they think that the well-disposed capitalists might sacrifice a part of their profits to give to the Christian syndicates the concessions necessary to assure the success of this religious policy. A well-informed Catholic, who interests himself in social questions, lately told me that in a few years the workers would be obliged to recognise that their prejudices against the Church had no foundation. I think that he deluded himself as much as Waldeck-Rousseau did when in 1884 he regarded the idea of a revolutionary federation of syndicates as ridiculous, but the material interest of the Church so blinds Catholics that they are capable of every kind of stupidity.

The Social Catholics^[60] have a way of looking at economic questions that makes them resemble our vilest politicians very closely. In fact it is difficult for the clerical world to conceive that things can happen otherwise than by grace, favouritism, and bribery.

I have often heard a lawyer say that a priest can never be made to understand that certain actions which the Code never punished are nevertheless villainies; and I have been told by a bishop's lawyer, that while a clientèle composed of convents is an excellent one, yet at the same time it is very dangerous, because convents frequently want fraudulent deeds drawn up. Many people seeing during the last fifteen years so many gorgeous monuments erected by the religious congregations have wondered if a wave of madness was not passing over the Church. They are unaware that these building operations enable a crowd of pious rascals to live at the expense of the Church treasury. The imprudence of those congregations which persist in carrying on long and costly law-suits against the public treasury has often been pointed out, for such tactics enable the Radicals to work up a lively agitation against the monks by denouncing the avarice of people who claim to have taken vows of poverty. But these law-suits make plenty of business for the army of pious rascality. I do not think I am exaggerating when I say that more than a third of the fortune of the Church has been wasted for the benefit of these vampires.

A widespread dishonesty therefore prevails in the Catholic world, which leads the devout to believe that economic conditions depend chiefly on the caprices of the people who hold the purse. Everybody who has profited by an unexpected gain—and all profit from capital is an unexpected gain to them^[61]—ought to share the profit with those people who have a right to his affection or to his esteem: first of all the priests,^[62] and then their parishioners. If he does not respect this obligation, he is a rascal, a freemason, or a Jew; no violence is too great to be used against such an imp of Satan. When priests, then, are heard using revolutionary language, we need not take them literally and believe that these vehement orators have socialistic sentiments. It simply indicates that the capitalists have not been sufficiently generous.

Here again, then, there is a case for arbitration; recourse must be had to men with great experience of life in order to ascertain exactly what sacrifices the rich must submit to on behalf of the poor dependants of the Church.

 

IV

The study we have just made has not led us to think that the theorists of "social peace" are on the way to an ethic worthy of acknowledgment. We now pass to a counterproof and enquire whether proletarian violence might not be capable of producing the effect in vain expected from tactics of moderation.

First of all, it must be noticed that modern philosophers seem to agree in demanding a kind of sublimity from the ethics of the future, which will distinguish it from the petty and insipid morality of the Catholics. The chief thing with which the theologians are reproached is that they make too great use of the conception of probabilism; nothing seems more absurd (not to say more scandalous) to contemporary philosophers than to count the opinions which have been emitted for and against a maxim, in order to find out whether we ought to shape our conduct by it or not.

Professor Durkheim said recently, at the Société française de philosophie (February 11, 1906), that it would be impossible to suppress the religious element in ethics, and that what characterised this element was its incommensurability with other human values. He recognised that his sociological researches led him to conclusions very near those of Kant; he asserted that utilitarian morality had misunderstood the problem of duty and obligation. I do not want to discuss these here; I simply cite them to show to what point the character of the sublime impresses itself on authors who, by the nature of their work, would seem the least inclined to accept it.

No writer has defined more forcibly than Proudhon the principles of that morality which modern times have in vain sought to realise. "To feel and to assert the dignity of man," he says, "first in everything in connection with ourselves, then in the person of our neighbour, and that without a shadow of egoism, without any consideration either of divine or communal sanction—therein lies Right. To be ready to defend that dignity in every circumstance with energy, and, if necessary, against oneself, that is Justice."^[63] Clemenceau, who doubtless can hardly be said to make a personal use of this morality, expresses the same thought when he writes: "Without the dignity of the human person, without independence, liberty, and justice, life is but a bestial state not worth the trouble of preserving" (Aurore, May 12, 1905).

One well-founded reproach has been brought against Proudhon, as well as against many others of the great moralists; it has been said that his maxims were admirable, but that they were doomed to remain ineffective. And, in fact, experience does prove, unfortunately, that those precepts which the historians of ideas call the most elevated precepts are, as a rule, entirely ineffective. This was evident in the case of the Stoics, it was no less remarkable in Kantism, and it does not seem as if the practical influence of Proudhon has been very noticeable. In order that a man may suppress the tendencies against which morality struggles, he must have in himself some source of conviction which must dominate his whole consciousness, and act before the calculations of reflection have time to enter his mind.

It may even be said that all the fine arguments by which authors hope to induce men to act morally are more likely to lead them down the slope of probabilism; as soon as we consider an act to be accomplished, we are led to ask ourselves if there is not some means of escaping the strict obligations of duty. A. Comte supposed that human nature would change in the future and that the cerebral organs which produce altruism (?) would destroy those which produce egoism; in saying this he very likely bore in mind the fact that moral decision is instantaneous, and, like instinct, comes from the depth of man's nature.

At times Proudhon is reduced, like Kant, to appeal to a kind of scholasticism for an explanation of the paradox of moral law. "To feel himself in others, to the point of sacrificing every other interest to this sentiment, to demand for others the same respect as for himself, and to be angry with the unworthy creature who suffers others to be lacking in respect for him, as if the care of his dignity did not concern himself alone, such a faculty at first sight seems a strange one. …. There is a tendency in every man to develop and force the acceptance of that which is essentially himself—which is, in fact, his own dignity. It results from this that the essential in man being identical and one for all humanity, each of us is aware of himself at the same time as individual and as species; and that an insult is felt by a third party and by the offender himself as well as by the injured person, that in consequence the protest is common. This precisely is what is meant by Justice."^[64]

Religious ethics claim to possess this source of action which is wanting in lay ethics,^[65] but here it is necessary to make a distinction if an error, into which so many authors have fallen, is to be avoided. The great mass of Christians do not carry out the real Christian ethic, that which the philosopher considers as really peculiar to their religion; worldly people who profess Catholicism are chiefly preoccupied with probabilism, mechanical rites and proceedings more or less related to magic and which are calculated to assure their present and future happiness in spite of their sins.^[66]

Theoretical Christianity has never been a religion suited to worldly people; the doctors of the spiritual life have always reasoned about those people who were able to escape from the conditions of ordinary life. "When the Council of Gangres, in 325," said Renan, "declared that the Gospel maxims about poverty, the renunciation of the family and virginity, were not intended for the ordinary Christian, the perfectionists made places apart where the evangelical life, too lofty for the common run of men, could be practised in all its rigour." He remarks, moreover, very justly, that the "monastery took the place of martyrdom so that the precepts of Jesus might be carried out somewhere,"^[67] but he does not push this comparison far enough; the lives of the great hermits were a material struggle against the infernal powers which pursue them even to the desert,^[68] and this struggle was to continue that which the martyrs had waged against their adversaries.

These facts show us the way to a right understanding of the nature of lofty moral convictions; these never depend on reasoning or on any education of the individual will, but on a state of war in which men voluntarily participate and which finds expression in well-defined myths. In Catholic countries the monks carry on the struggle against the prince of evil who triumphs in this world, and would subdue them to his will; in Protestant countries small fanatical sects take the place of the monasteries.^[69] These are the battle-fields which enable Christian morality to hold its own, with that character of sublimity which to-day still fascinates many minds and gives it sufficient lustre to beget in the community a few pale imitations.

When one considers a less accentuated state of the Christian ethic, one is struck by seeing to what extent it depends on strife. Le Play, who was an excellent Catholic, often contrasted (to the great scandal of his co-religionists) the solidity of the religious convictions he met with in countries of mixed religions, with the spirit of inactivity which prevails in the countries exclusively submitted to the influence of Rome. Among the Protestant peoples, the more vigorously the Established Church is assailed by dissident sects the greater the moral fervour developed. We thus see that conviction is founded on the competition of communions, each of which regards itself as the army of truth fighting the armies of evil. In such conditions it is possible to find sublimity; but when religious warfare is much weakened, probabilism, mechanical rites having a certain resemblance to magic, take the first place.

We can point out quite similar phenomena in the history of modern Liberal ideas. For a long while our fathers regarded from an almost religious point of view the Declaration of the Rights of Man, which seems to us nowadays only a colourless collection of abstract and confused formulas, without any great practical bearing. This was due to the fact that formidable struggles had been undertaken on account of the institutions which originated in this document; the clerical party asserted that it would demonstrate the fundamental error of Liberalism; everywhere it organised fighting societies intended to enforce its authority on the people and on the Government; it boasted that it would be able to destroy the defenders of the Revolution before long. At the time when Proudhon wrote his book on Justice, the conflict was far from being ended; thus the whole book is written in a warlike tone astonishing to the reader of to-day: the author speaks as if he were a veteran in the wars of Liberty; he would be revenged on the temporary conquerors who threaten the acquisitions of the Revolution; he announces the dawn of the great revolt.

Proudhon hopes that the duel will be soon, that the forces will meet with their whole strength, and that there will be a Napoleonic battle, finally destroying the opponent. He often speaks in a language which would be appropriate to an epic. He did not perceive that when later on his belligerent ideas had disappeared, his abstract reasonings would seem weak. There is a ferment all through his soul which colours it and gives a hidden meaning to his thought, very far removed from the scholastic sense.

The savage fury with which the Church proceeded against Proudhon's book shows that the clerical camp had exactly the same conception of the nature and con- sequences of the conflict as he had.

 

As long as the "sublime" imposed itself in this way on the modern spirit, it seemed possible to create a lay and democratic ethic; but in our time such an enterprise would seem almost comic. Everything is changed now that the clericals no longer seem formidable; there are no longer any Liberal convictions, since the Liberals have ceased to be animated by their former warlike passions. Nowadays everything is in such confusion that the priests claim to be the best of democrats; they have adopted the Marseillaise as their party hymn, and if a little persuasion is exerted they will have illuminations on the anniversary of August 10, 1792. Sublimity has vanished from the ethics of both parties, giving place to a morality of extraordinary meanness.

Kautsky is evidently right when he asserts that in our time the advancement of the workers has depended on their revolutionary spirit. At the end of a study on social reform and revolution he says, "It is hopeless to try, by means of moral homilies, to inspire the English workman with a more exalted conception of life, a feeling of nobler effort. The ethics of the proletariat spring from its revolutionary aspirations, these are what give it the greatest force and elevation. It is the idea of revolution which has raised the proletariat from its degradation."^[70] It is clear that for Kautsky morality is always subordinate to the idea of sublimity.

The Socialist point of view is quite different from that of former democratic literature; our fathers believed that the nearer man approached Nature the better he was, and that a man of the people was a sort of savage; that consequently the lower we descend the more virtue we find. The democrats have many times, in support of this idea, called attention to the fact that during revolutions the poorest people have often given the finest examples of heroism; they explain this by taking for granted that these obscure heroes were true children of Nature. I explain it by saying that, these men being engaged in a war which was bound to end in their triumph or their enslavement, the sentiment of sublimity was bound to be engendered by the conditions of the struggle. As a rule, during a revolution the higher classes show themselves in a particularly unfavourable light, for this reason, that, belonging to a defeated army, they experience the feelings of conquered people, suppliant, or about to capitulate.

When working-class circles are reasonable, as the professional sociologists wish them to be, when conflicts are confined to disputes about material interests, there is no more opportunity for heroism than when agricultural syndicates discuss the subject of the price of guano with manure merchants. It has never been thought that discussions about prices could possibly exercise any ethical influence on men; the experience of sales of live stock would lead to the supposition that in such cases those interested are led to admire cunning rather than good faith; the ethical values recognised by horse-dealers have never passed for very elevated. Among the important things accomplished by agricultural syndicates, De Rocquigny reports that in 1896, "the municipality of Marmande having wanted to impose on beasts brought to the fair a tax which the cattle-breeders considered iniquitous … the breeders struck, and stopped supplying the market of Marmande, with such effect that the municipahty found itself forced to give in."^[71] This was a very peaceful procedure which produced results profitable to the peasants; but it is quite clear that nothing ethical was involved in such a dispute.

When politicians intervene there is, almost necessarily, a noticeable lowering of ethical standards, because they do nothing for nothing and only act on condition that the favoured association becomes one of their customers. We are very far here from the path of sublimity, we are on that which leads to the practices of the political-criminal societies.

In the opinion of many well-informed people, the transition from violence to cunning which shows itself in contemporary strikes in England cannot be too much admired. The great object of the Trades Unions is to obtain a recognition of the right to employ threats disguised in diplomatic formulas; they desire that their delegates should not be interfered with when going the round of the workshops charged with the mission of bringing those workmen who wish to work to understand that it would be to their interests to follow the directions of the Trades Unions; they consent to express their desires in a form which will be perfectly clear to the listener, but which could be represented in a court of justice as a solidarist^[72] sermon. I protest I cannot see what is so admirable in these tactics, which are worthy of Escobar. In the past the Catholics have often employed similar methods of intimidation against the Liberals; I understand thus perfectly well why so many worthy progressives admire the Trades Unions, but the morality of the worthy-progressives does not seem to me very much to be admired.

It is true that for a long time in England violence has been void of all revolutionary character. Whether corporative advantages are pursued by means of blows or by craft, there is not much difference between the two methods; yet the pacific tactics of the Trades Unions indicate an hypocrisy which would be better left to the "well intentioned progressives." In a country where the conception of the general strike exists, the blows exchanged between workmen and representatives of the middle classes have an entirely different import, their consequences are far reaching and they may beget heroism.

I am convinced that in order to understand part, at any rate, of the dislike that Bernstein's doctrines rouse in German social democracy we must bear in mind these conclusions about the nature of the sublime in ethics. The German has been brought up on sublimity to an extraordinary extent, first by the literature connected with the wars of independence,^[73] then by the revival of the taste for the old national songs which followed these wars, then by a philosophy which pursues aims very far removed from sordid considerations. It must also be remembered that the victory of 1871 has considerably contributed toward giving Germans of every class a feeling of confidence in their strength that is not to be found to the same degree in this country at the present time; compare, for instance, the German Catholic party with the chicken-hearted creatures who form the clientèle of the Church in France! Our clergy only think of humiliating themselves before their adversaries and are quite happy, provided that there are plenty of evening parties during the winter; they have no recollection of services which are rendered to them.^[74]

The German Socialist party drew its strength particularly from the catastrophic idea everywhere spread by its propagandists, and which was taken very seriously as long as the Bismarckian persecutions maintained a warlike spirit in the groups. This spirit was so strong in the masses that they have not yet succeeded in understanding thoroughly that their leaders are anything but revolutionaries.

When Bernstein (who was too intelligent not to know what was the real spirit of his friends on the directing committee) announced that the grandiose hopes which had been raised must be given up, there was a moment of stupefaction; very few people understood that Bernstein's declarations were courageous and honest actions, intended to make the language of Socialism accord more with the real facts. If hereafter it was necessary to be content with the policy of social reform, the parliamentary parties and the ministry would have to be negotiated with—that is, it would be necessary to behave exactly as the middle classes did. This appeared monstrous to men who had been brought up on a catastrophic theory of Socialism. Many times had the tricks of the middle class politicians been denounced, their astuteness contrasted with the candour and disinterestedness of the Socialists, and the large element of artificiality and expediency in their attitude of opposition pointed out. It could never have been imagined that the disciples of Marx might follow in the footsteps of the Liberals. With the new policy, heroic characters, sublimity, and convictions disappear! The Germans thought that the world was turned upside dovn.

It is plain that Bernstein was absolutely right in not wanting to keep up a revolutionary semblance which was in contradiction with the real state of mind of the party; he did not find in his own country the elements which existed in France and Italy; he saw no other way then of keeping Socialism on a basis of reality than that of suppressing all that was deceptive in a revolutionary programme which the leaders no longer believed in. Kautsky, on the contrary, wanted to preserve the veil which hid from the workmen the real activity of the Socialist party; in this way he achieved much success among the poUticians, but more than any one else he has helped to intensify the Socialist crisis in Germany. The ideas of Socialism cannot be kept intact by diluting the phrases of Marx in verbose commentaries, but by continually adapting the spout of Marx to facts which are capable of assuming a revolutionary aspect. The general strike alone can produce this result at the present day.

One serious question must now be asked. "Why is it that in certain countries acts of violence grouping themselves round the idea of the general strike, produce a Socialist ideology capable of inspiring sublimity, and why in others do they seem not to have that power?" Here national traditions play a great part; the examination of this problem would perhaps help to throw a strong light on the genesis of ideas; but we will not deal with it here.

1. "One day Michel Chevalier came beaming into the editorial room of the Journal des débats. His first words were: 'I have achieved liberty!' Everybody was all agog; he was asked to explain. He meant the liberty of the slaughter-houses" (Renan, Feuilles détachées, p. 149).
2. P. Bureau, Le Paysan des fjords de Norwège, pp. 114 and 115.
3. De Rousiers, La Vie américaine: ranches, fermes et usines, pp. 224–225.
4. De Rousiers, La Vie américaine, l'education et la société, p. 218.
5. De Rousiers, loc. cit. p. 221.
6. P. Allard, Dix leçons sur le martyre, p. 171.
7. Renan, Église chrétienne, p. 137.
8. P. Allard, op. cit. p. 137.
9. Revue des questions historiques, July 1905.
10. P. Allard, op. cit. p. 142. Cf. what I have said in Le Système hisiorique de Renan, pp. 312–315.
11. P. Allard, op. cit. p. 206.
12. P. Allard, op. cit. p. 142.
13. G. Sorel, Le Système historique de Renan, pp. 335–336.
14. It is probable that the first Christian generation had no clear idea of the possibility of replacing the apocalypses imitated from Jewish literature by the Acts of the Martyrs; this would explain why we possess no accounts prior to the year 155 (letter of Smyrniotes telling of the death of Saint Polycarpe), and why all memory of a certain number of very ancient Roman martyrs has been lost.
15. Marc Aurèle, p. 500.
16. As we consider everything from the historical point of view, it is of small importance to know what reasons were actually in the mind of the first apostles of anti-patriotism; reasons of this kind are almost never the right ones; the essential thing is that for the revolutionary workers anti-patriotism appears an inseparable part of Socialism.
17. This propaganda produced results which went far beyond the expectations of its promoters, and which would be inexplicable without the revolutionary idea.
18. Cf. Renan, Histoire du peuple d'Israël, tome iv. pp. 289 and 296; Y. Guyot, La Morale, pp. 212–215; Alphonse Daudet, Numa Roumestan, chap. iv.
19. G. Sorel, Essai sur l'église et l'état, p. 63.
20. Quand est-ce? This was the question addressed to the newcomer in a workshop, to remind him that according to custom he must pay for drinks all round—"Pay your footing."
21. Denis Poulot, Le Sublime, pp. 150–153. I quote from the edition of 1887. This author says that the grosses culottes very much hampered progress in the forges.
22. The compagnonnages were very ancient workmen's associations, whose principal purpose was to enable carpenters, joiners, locksmiths, farriers, and others, to make a circular tour round France, in order to learn their trades thoroughly. In the towns on this circuit there was an hotel kept by the Mère des compagnons; the newly arrived workman was received there and the older men found him work. The compagnonnages are now in a state of decay.
23. Martin Saint-Léon, Le Compagnonnage, pp. 115, 125, 270–273, 277–278.
24. Each trade possessed often several rival associations of workmen, which often engaged each other in bloody combats. Each association was called a Devoir. What was intended by de Jacques and de Subise has long been forgotten. They are traditional words indicating the rules, and so by extension, the associations which follow these rules.
25. Martin Saint-Léon, op. cit. p. 97. Cf. pp. 91–92, p. 107.
26. In 1823, the companion joiners claimed La Rochelle as theirs, a town which they had for a long time neglected as being of too little importance; they had previously only stopped at Nantes and Bordeaux (Martin Saint-Léon, op. cit. p. 103). L'Union des travailleurs du tour de France was formed in 1830 to 1832 as a rival organisation to the compagnonnage, following the refusals with which the latter had met a few rather modest demands for reforms presented by the candidates for election (pp. 108–116, 126, 131).
27. On March 30, 1906, Monis said in the Senate: "We cannot write in a legal text that prostitution exists in France for both sexes."
28. Hartmann here bases his statements on the authority of the English naturalist Wallace, who has greatly praised the simplicity of life among the Malays; there must surely be a considerable element of exaggeration in this praise, although other travellers have made similar observations about some of the tribes of Sumatra. Hartmann wishes to show that there is no progress towards happiness, and this preoccupation leads him to exaggerate the happiness of the ancients.
29. Hartmann, Philosophy of the Unconscious, French trans., pp. 464–465.
30. De Rousiers, La Vie américaine: l'éducation et la société, p. 217.
31. Several small countries have adopted these ideas, thinking by such imitation to reach the greatness of the large countries.
32. It must be noticed that in Germany there are so many Jews in the world of speculation that American ideas do not spread very easily. The majority look upon the speculator as a foreigner who is robbing the nation.
33. Hartmann, loc. cit., p. 465.
34. [The League was a political organisation directed by the partisans of the Due de Guise against the Protestants; it resisted Henri IV. for a considerable time.—Trans. Note.]
35. At a meeting of the Municipal Council of Paris on March 26, 1906, the Prefect of Police said that the resistance was organised by a committee sitting at 86. rue de Richelieu, which hired pious apaches at between three and four francs a day. He asserted that fifty-two Parisian curés had promised him either to facilitate the inventories or to be content with a merely passive resistance. He accused the Catholic politicians of having forced the hands of the clergy.
36. [I.e. in the time when MacMahon was President.—Trans. Note.]
37. The people in the provinces are not, as a matter of fact, so accustomed as the Parisians are to indulgence towards non-violent trickery and brigandage.
38. ["Dry guillotine," popular expression meaning persecution—Trans.]
39. Cahiers de la quinzaine 9th of the VIth series, p. 9. F. de Pressensè was at the time of the Panama affair Hébrard's principal clerk; we know that the latter was one of the principal beneficiaries from the Panama booty, but that has not injured his position in the eyes of the austere Huguenots; the Temps continues to be the organ of moderate democracy and of the ministers of the Gospel.
40. Cahiers de la quinzaine, loc. cit. p. 13.
41. Rousseau, stating the question in an abstract way, appeared to condemn every kind of association, and our Governments for a long time used his authority to subject every association to authority.
42. In his Morale, published in 1883, Y. Guyot violently attacks this policy. "In spite of the disastrous experiences [of two centuries], we are taking Tunisia, we are on the point of going to Egypt, we are setting out for Tonkin, we dream of the conquest of Central Africa" (p. 339).
43. I have pointed this out in the Ère nouvelle, March 1894, p. 339.
44. According to the Socialist deputy, Marius Devèze, the Prefect du Gard undertook this leadership of the Syndicalist movement under the minister Combes (Études socialistes, p. 323). I find in the France du Sud-Ouest (January 25, 1904) a notice announcing that the Prefect of La Manche, delegated by the Government, together with the under-prefect, the mayor, and the municipality, officially inaugurated the Bourse du Travail at Cherbourg.
45. Blacks and reds—clericals and Socialists.
46. Y. Guyot, Morale, pp. 293, 183–184, 122, 148 and 320.
47. De Rocquigny, Les Syndicats agricoles et leur œuvre, pp. 42, 391–394.
48. This is all the more remarkable since the syndicates are represented in the circular as capable of aiding French industry in its struggle against foreign competition.
49. [See note p. 80.—Trans.]
50. It was thought to be merely a question of permitting agricultural labourers to form themselves into syndicates; Tolain declared, in the name of the Committee, that he had never thought of excluding them from the benefits of the new law (De Rocquigny, op. cit. p. 10). As a rule, the agricultural syndicates have served as commercial agencies for farm bailiffs, landowners, etc.
51. Taine, Le Régime moderne, vol. ii. p. 10.
52. Taine, loc. cit. p. 11.
53. This is what Mme. Georges Renard very sensibly points out in her report of a workmen's féte given by Millerand (L. de Seilhac, Le Monde socialiste, p. 308).
54. [Préfets violets; this expression was used ironically by several papers to designate bishops who were too submissive to the Government. Catholic bishops wear a violet robe.—Trans. Note.]
55. Millerand did not keep on the former Director of the Office du Travail, who was doubtless not pliant enough for the new policy. It seems to me to be clearly established that at that time considerable attention was being given in this Government department to a kind of enquiry as to the state of feeling among the militants of the syndicates, evidently in order to ascertain in what way they might be advised. This was revealed by Ch. Guieysse in the Pages libres of December 10, 1904; the protestations of the department and those of Millerand do not appear to have been very serious (Voix du peuple, December 18, 25, 1904, January 1, 1905, June 25, August 27). [The Office du Travail is a ministerial office, which makes enquiries about labour and publishes statistics; it was created principally in the hope that it would serve to put the Government into connection with the leaders of the syndicates.—Trans.]
56. It may be questioned whether Waldeck-Rousseau did not go too far, and thus started the Government on a very different road from that which he wanted it to take; I do not think that the law about associations would have been voted except under the influence of fear, but it is certain that its final wording was much more anti-clerical than its promoter would have wished.
57. In a speech on June 21, 1907, Charles Benoist complains that the Dreyfus case had thrown discredit on "reasons of State," and had led the Government to appeal to the elements of disorder in the nation in order to create order.
58. I suppose that no one is ignorant of the fact that no important undertaking is carried through without bribery.
59. I borrow from a celebrated novel by Léon Daudet a description of the character of the barrister Méderbe. "The latter was a curious character, tall, thin, of a well-set-up figure, surmounted by a head like a dead fish, green impenetrable eyes, oiled and flattened hair, his whole appearance being frozen and rigid. … He had chosen the profession of a barrister as being one which would supply his own and his wife's need of money. … He took part chiefly in financial cases, on account of the large profit to be made out of them, and of the secrets he learned from them; he was employed in such cases on account of his semi-political, semi-judicial relations, which always secured him victory in any case he pleaded. He charged fabulous fees. What he was paid for was certain acquittal. This man then had enormous power… He gave one the impression of a bandit armed for social life and sure of impunity. …" (Les Morticoles, pp. 287–288). It is clear that many of these traits are copied from those of the man the Socialists so often called the Eiffel barrister, before they made him the demi-god of Republican Defence. [In the Panama affair, Eiffel was prosecuted for having illegally appropriated a large sum. Waldeck-Rousseau defended him in the law courts.—Trans.]
60. [The "catholiques soceaun" form a definite party. De Mutz has been for a long time the recognised leader of the party and still exercises considerable influence.—Trans. Note.]
61. I do not think that there exists a class less capable of understanding the economics of production than the priests.
62. In Turkey when a high palace dignitary receives a bribe, the Sultan takes the money and then gives a certain proportion of it back to his employé; what proportion is given back depends on the Sultan's disposition at the moment. The Sultan's ethical code in these matters is also that of our Catholic social reform group.
63. Proudhon, De la justice dans la revolution et dans l'église, vol. i. 216.
64. Proudhon, loc. cit. pp. 216–217.
65. Proudhon thinks that this was also lacking in pagan antiquity: "During several centuries, polytheistic societies had customs, but no ethics. In the absence of a morality solidly based on principles, the customs gradually disappeared" (loc. cit. p. 173).
66. Heinrich Heine claims that the Catholicism of a wife is a very good thing for the husband, because the wife is never oppressed by the burden of her sins; after confession she begins again "to chatter and laugh." Moreover, there is no danger of her relating her sin (L'Allemagne, 2nd edition, vol. ii. p. 322).
67. Renan, Marc-Aurèle, p. 558.
68. Catholic saints do not struggle against abstractions but often against apparitions which present themselves with all the signs of reality. Luther also had to fight the Devil, at whom he threw his inkpot.
69. Renan, loc. cit. p. 627.
70. Karl Kautsky, La Révolution sociale, French trans., pp. 123–124. I have pointed out elsewhere that the decay of the revolutionary idea in the minds of former militants who have become moderate seems to be accompanied by a moral decadence that I have compared to that which as a rule one finds in the case of a priest who has lost his faith (Insegnamente sociali, pp. 344–345).
71. De Rocquigny, op. cit. pp. 379–380. I am curious to know how exactly a tax can be iniquitous. These worthy progressives speak a special language.
72. [This is a reference to the "solidarista" doctrine, invented by Buisson; the interests of the classes are not opposed, and the more wealthy have their duties toward the poorer.—Trans. Note.]
73. Renan even wrote: "The war of 1813 to 1815 is the only one of our century that had anything epic and elevated about it … [it] corresponded to a movement of ideas and had a real intellectual significance. A man who had taken part in this great struggle told me that, awakened by the cannonade on the first night that he passed with the volunteer troops collected in Silesia, he felt that he was witnessing an immense divine service" (Essais de morale et de critique, p. 116). Compare Manzoni's ode entitled "Mars 1821," dedicated to "the illustrious memory of Théodore Koerner, poet and soldier of German independence and killed on the field of battle at Leipzig, a name dear to all those peoples who are struggling to defend or to reconquer their fatherland." Our own wars of Liberty were also epic, but they have not been so well written up as the war of 1813.
74. Drumont has often denounced this state of mind of the fashionable religious world.