but the moment it is finished we shall | Mr. Sidney Webb denounces "the freeconfiscate it; and whoever gets any dom to privately appropriate the means benefit from it, you, at all events, shall of production," forgetting that the get none. The Fabian essayists dis- means of production are the personal tinctly say that any property, no matter product of the ability of the appropriof what kind, which is capable of yield- | ators, and that what he calls appropriaing any rent to its owner, must, on So- tion is merely a man's keeping what he cialistic principles, be ruthlessly taken has made, and putting it to the use for away from him.1 which he has made it; and he speaks lightly of the ease with which these "appropriators" could be "expropriated by the community." He might just as well speak of the ease with which he could cut a laborer's throat, and then argue as if the man would go on laboring.

Here we have the one peculiar doctrine on which Socialism rests, and which alone fundamentally divides it from all other systems. It is the doctrine that ability will continue to exert itself as heretofore, when almost every motive to exertion is taken away from

It will be thus seen that Socialism is a war upon two things first, on every motive to increase the gross products of the community, or, in other words, the fund out of which alone capital can be saved; and, secondly, upon every motive to save it. So far as it is possible to translate into figures the programme sketched out by Mr. Sidney Webb and his friends, ability is to be robbed of about half of the hundred and eighty millions which it produces annually by its direct action, and of the whole of the four hundred and fifty millions which it produces by its indi-it. Socialism, no doubt, has many rect action; and, in addition to this, of the fraction of its products that would be left to it, it is to be jealously and forcibly prevented from making that use- namely, saving and investment - which, in the eyes of the most energetic men, gives it its greatest value.

1 One of the Fabian essayists gives as an example of rent-yielding property some great picture by Raphael; and points out with great clearness, that if such a treasure is suffered to be the property of an individual, nothing can prevent the owner's

deriving a rent from exhibiting it. The writer naïvely hints a doubt whether any men exist who would be really selfish enough even to wish to call

such a picture their own; but oddly enough he forgets to consider the case, not of a man who accidentally owns an ancient masterpiece, but of living artist who produces masterpieces himself.

a

If we accept a picture as representing rent-yielding property, what concerns us as economists is the production of new pictures, rather than the in

other peculiarities; but these are secondary and incidental, and they are all derived from this. If any one doubts that such is really the case, the writings of the Fabian essayists contain all the materials for showing him that it is so. Almost every one of the writers, unconsciously but continually, is acknowledging that the bulk of our modern wealth is the product of ability, not labor- of the few, not of the many; and that were the exertions of the few hampered or weakened, the wealth which the Socialists would distribute would cease to exist at all.

The essayists constantly endeavor to hide this fact from their eyes by trying to persuade themselves that, by some unanalyzed process, the powers of ability are diffusing themselves amongst heritance of old; and, according to the Socialists, if some State servant happened also to be a great the community generally; and they artist, he need only employ his leisure in painting support this contention by observing pictures great enough to make the public anxious that capital now is not usually maniputo look at them, and the State would swoop down on them, and seize them as if they were smuggled lated by the men who own it, but by brandy. A great artist is indeed the one kind of salaried managers, who do all the work producer who might occasionally be found willing of ability - managers who can always to produce under such conditions; but even amongst artists this would occur but seldom; be obtained for a salary of £800 a year; whilst amongst no other kind of producer would it and they point in especial to the formaoccur at all. A man may be willing to produce tion of trusts, and the grouping of many something with the intention of giving it away; but he will not produce anything with the cercapitals under one central management. tainty that it will be forcibly taken away. But the puerility of these arguments is VOL. II. 62

LIVING AGE.

one of the strangest things in the book. | ago, by a spontaneous and inevitable Do Mr. Webb and his friends think process. According to Mr. George that the powers which introduced Howell, the aggregate revenue of the steam, for instance, are represented by trade unions of this kingdom ten years a manager at £800 a year? Do the ago amounted to two millious a year; shareholders in a Transatlantic steam- and the amount by this time is most ship company hire this marvellous be- probably larger. If then ability is to ing, tell him that they want a ship be had for next to nothing if the which will go in less than six days to highest productive genius can be seAmerica; and do they wake up pres-cured for £800, which is not much in ently and find the City of Paris on excess of what Mr. Pickard receives the Clyde ? Did the community- the for organizing strikes, why do not the social body feel a wish for electric unions become their own employers? lighting, for the telephone, and the They could, of course, begin on a comphonograph, and give a manager £800 paratively small scale only; but they a year, and tell him to produce these could begin on a scale that would be things? The Fabian essayists are large compared to that of a private even more unfortunate in their exam- firm; and if they made profits as rapples than in their theory; for, having idly as they imagine the employers pointed to the American trust compa- make them, their capital would go on nies as the great classical example of increasing year by year, and their how the profitable management of cap-business would extend with an everital may be divorced from any direct increasing celerity. The principles of and personal interest in it, they admit Socialism would show all the world incidentally that the most important trust of all—namely, the Standard Oil Trust" is controlled by nine men owning a majority of the stock."

their soundness by their success; and Socialism in the course of a generation would have destroyed individualism, not by attacking it, but by doing its I have no space, however, to dwell work better, in precisely the same way upon this matter. I return to the as railways destroyed coaches. Again, broad statement made abovc—namely, why do not the co-operative societies that it can be logically demonstrated, do the same thing? Here again there even from the admissions of the Fabian is ample capital. These societies essayists themselves, that the larger owned between them in 1891 more than part of the wealth of the modern world is actually the product of a minority of able men, and would dwindle in proportion as the exertions of these were relaxed; and the sole fundamental | vidualistic enterprise; and of their change Socialism proposes to introduce is to rob them of every motive for producing more than one-ninth part of it.

If any one thinks that ability would continue to exert itself under these conditions, it seems to me that such a man is impossible to argue with. Indeed, the Fabian volume itself is full of incidental admissions, with regard to human nature, which themselves prove how absurd such a view is. But a far more forcible answer to it than any argument is to be found in the fact that could ability be secured under the conditions in question, the whole State would have become Socialistic long

sixteen million pounds, and in 1892 more than seventeen millions. And what do they do with it? In 1891 they had invested three-eighths of it in indi

increased capital in the year following they had similarly invested a yet greater proportion. They have at this moment more than six and a half millions of capital thus invested. Of the capital which they employ themselves, about ninety-two per cent. is employed, not in production, but in what the Socialists call joint-stock shop-keeping. The crucial problem is the problem of production. If it is possible to secure ability, under conditions designed especially to mulet it of the larger part of what it produces, why do not these societies use all these millions in production?

can be solved by industrial ability only. The Socialists would encourage ability by robbing it of all its products. What is really wanted-if anything new is wanted — is rather that the State should offer it an additional bonus.

If ever there was an opening ready | employed as efficient and as wealthfor them for them and the trade producing as that of the mass of their unions between them-there is, on fellows. And this is a problem which their own showing, an opening now. There are hundreds of thousands -so the leaders of the unionists tell us hundreds of thousands of their fellowworkmen without employment. Why do not the unionists and the co-operators themselves employ them - the So much, then, for Socialism as an one with their annual revenue of two analysis of the process of production. millions, the other with their capital of I propose on another occasion to connearly seven millions, now invested in sider the view of its historical evolunon-socialistic enterprise? The an- tion, and its progress in recent times, swer is plain. Neither of these bodies and at the present moment, as given can employ either the unemployed or by the Fabian essayists, and to show themselves, because to employ success-that in every one of their generalizafully ability is the prime requisite tions they are altogether mistaken. I and ability of a very high order; and shall show that whilst when they are it is impossible to secure such ability analyzing Socialism they use the word on the Socialistic terms. in one sense, when they are dealing The very existence of an unemployed with history they use it in two totally class, indeed, so far from being a proof different senses not only different that Socialism is required, is a proof from, but antagonistic to the first. that we require yet rarer ability, a yet Finally, having shown the falsehoods more strongly stimulated individualism. and confusions contained in the SocialLet a new Arkwright, a new Watt, or istic contribution to economics, I shall a genius who will do for British agri- endeavor to sum up the valuable truths culture what these men did for manu- contained in it; to show that the facture, make his appearance; in short, proper place for these is in what — in a let the multiplication of ability merely broad and social, as distinct from a keep pace with the increase of popula- party sense may be called the system tion, and an unemployed class (other of Conservatism; and to show how than criminals, and drunkards, and ex- the defenders of this system may be ceptionally worthless persons) will be able, by a fuller understanding of it, an impossibility. Does the bitterest to speak to the intellect, the heart, opponent of the private capitalist imag- and the hopes of the people of this ine that if the wit of man was able to country, like the voice of a trumpet, devise means by which under existing in comparison with which the voice circumstances the present unemployed of Socialism will be merely a penny could be set to produce anything which whistle. the rest of the community would recognize as exchangeable wealth -- does any one imagine that under these circumstances the labor of the unemployed would have to go begging, and that eager employers would not rather be competing for it? No doubt the State, as it is, may support these men, by finding for them unremunerative labor, and thus trenching on the savings of the country; but this is merely a disguised charity, and is no real solution of the problem. The problem is, how to make the labor of the un

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[Copyright, 1893, by LITTELL & Co.]

MANETTE ANDREY; OR, LIFE DURING

THE REIGN OF TERROR.

BY PAUL PERRET.

TRANSLATED BY MRS. E. W. LATIMER.

XVII.

WHEN Citizen Andrey told his niece that he had met Citizen Laverdac outside the house and had invited him to take refuge in their dwelling, adding,

"Did I do right, Nénette?" Manette | pression of defiance. She read there made a quick gesture, but said nothing. nothing but humility and poignant sorWhat could she say?

The crowd, which now flowed into the street, was clattering past the house, and noise and clamor seemed to fill the room. If Manette had said to Laverdac: " Why did you come here? How did you dare to come into this house when I had forbidden you?" he would not have heard her, for the noise was too great outside.

row.

He seemed prepared to accept the sentence which would exile him forever from her presence, as soon as the noises in the street might permit her words to be heard. She knew what he would say; how he would implore her to forgive him for having dared to come and see her for the last time. She would show him that she was not one to be moved to pity. She must seem cruel, ungrateful - forgetful of the service he had risked his life to render her! She trembled. She rose hastily, and endeavored to compose herself by pressing her face against the window-pane, though the spectacle without was one of horror. But as she looked a cry broke from her lips. It was too dreadful.

He and she were as much alone together as if Citizen Andrey had not been in the room, for he had turned his back to them, and was standing by the window, looking at what was going forward in the street. Laverdac remained standing, motionless and hat in hand. It was growing so dark that Manette could not see his features. She fancied that, if she could, she would see that he defied her. She got The howling mob was being driven up suddenly and went back to her bu- back by the vigorous efforts of a body reau by the window, pushing roughly of gendarmes, stretching almost across aside the old man who was standing the street in close order, clearing the there. He said nothing, but went way for something behind. In spite of toward the door that communicated them, however, a few of the more acwith what had been his dead wife's chamber. It was locked, and with his slow, unsteady step, he went into another room to find another window.

Manette was grieved at her own petulance. She wished she had not been so rough with her old uncle. She looked with some remorse at the closed door through which, two weeks before, she had passed to stand beside her aunt's death-bed, and which the next morning she had double locked, as if she dreaded it might open of itself, and disclose a threatening spectre standing on the threshold. If the old man had found it open, he would have taken his stand at that window, and would not have closed the door behind him. In the next room he would have been as much protection as at present. Was this retribution?

Laverdac, however, did not move. But suddenly the torches passing in the street threw a glare of fierce light into the chamber, and Manette involuntarily looked towards him. She saw his handsome face, and it wore no ex

tive of the crowd had managed to scramble up to posts on the outside of houses, and there clung, for the soldiers had no time to dislodge them. Under the window at which Manette stood, four or five of these wretches continued to shout: "Kill her! kill her!" A cry which was repeated by the greater part of the populace, furious at being driven back. One of the men below the window was still brandishing a fragment of his torch.

Behind the guard, surrounded by the soldiers of the section, came a carriage drawn at a foot-pace by two restive horses. They were driven by a coachman in a bonnet rouge; and in the carriage, seated between two men who wore tri-colored scarfs of office, showing that they belonged to the communal police, was a young woman.

Manette, with her teeth clenched, cried excitedly: "Was it a woman who killed him?" And behind her a low voice answered :—

"Yes; a woman. She killed a man who, had he lived, would daily have

shed innocent blood. It is another act | carriage disappeared into the darkness of justice that will serve no end.” round a bend in the street. A second crowd ran after it. The stream of people seemed to have no end. The patter of their feet was dreadful. Instead of the loud cries of fury and of rage uttered by the crowd which had been driven back, there was a hoarse roar with an occasional explosion of shouting. In the chamber it was now possible to hear each other speak.