French and German Socialism in Modern Times

by Richard T. Ely

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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