Table of Contents

• (Introduction)
• The ascending period of the religious crisis
• The decline of the old aristocracy
• The rise of a new aristocracy
• The subjective phenomenon
• Endnotes

[401]

AN APPLICATION OF SOCIOLOGICAL THEORIES

(Introduction)↩

The aim of the present study is entirely objective and seeks solely to test certain sociological theories against the facts.

Usually, those who write about sociology or political economy have some practical arrangement they wish to advocate; nor do I wish to blame this approach now, but merely to inform the reader that I do not follow such a path here. It is appropriate to state this clearly, because that custom has had the consequence that an author’s words are understood in a somewhat broader sense than their literal meaning. Thus, if he describes some defect of a system A, it is taken to mean that he generally and entirely condemns that system A, and often, going even further, it is inferred that he is a supporter of a certain other system B, opposed to A.

Whoever finds faults in universal suffrage is understood to favor limited suffrage; whoever recounts the woes of democracy is assumed to be advocating aristocratic government; whoever praises the monarchy in some respects is certainly against the republic, or vice versa; and in general, every statement that is literally partial is interpreted in a general sense. To do this is not entirely wrong, in fact, it often hits the mark, since the author deliberately says less so that more may be understood, and this is a praiseworthy method in literature, though much less so in science. Therefore, it is important for me to emphasize that in the present work, every statement carries no more than its own meaning, and should in no way be understood in a broader sense.

I must also write a few words to explain why I chose to study present facts instead of only past ones. The latter [402] have the very great advantage, indeed, of being considered with a cooler mind and less conflict of feelings and prejudices; but they also suffer the serious disadvantage of being known to us in a very imperfect way. Moreover, the advantage mentioned is often more apparent than real, since we tend to project present-day emotions onto the past. For example, the German historian who is a fanatic supporter of the German empire cannot tolerate anything negative being said of Caesar or Augustus, while our own democrats take offense at Aristophanes.

Let us now turn to the subject at hand and begin by recalling certain sociological laws which, having been induced from the facts, we now wish to test anew, through deduction, against those same facts. In this way, we follow the method recommended by Claude Bernard, which proceeds from fact to idea, and then from idea back to fact. In the fragment published here, the reader will find only the second part; the first, which is considerably longer, will not be missing from the treatise on sociology that I am working on, if, indeed, I am able to complete and publish it. [1] For now, the laws stated should be considered as more or less plausible hypotheses, and we shall see whether they help us explain the facts.

Most human actions originate not from logical reasoning, but from feeling; this is especially true for actions with a non-economic purpose. The opposite holds for economic actions, especially those involving trade and large-scale production.

Although man is driven to act by non-logical motives, he takes pleasure in logically connecting his actions to certain principles, and therefore he imagines these principles a posteriori to justify such actions. Thus, it happens that an action A, which in reality is the result of a cause B, is presented by the person performing it as the result of a cause C, which is often entirely imaginary. The man who in this way deceives others with his claims has first deceived himself, and he firmly believes what he asserts.

It follows from this that every sociological phenomenon has two well-defined and often entirely different forms: an objective form, which establishes relations between real objects, and a subjective form, which establishes relations between psychic states. Suppose we have a curved mirror, objects reflected in it appear distorted: what is straight appears curved, what is small seems large, or vice versa; [403] likewise, in the mind the objective phenomenon is reflected and made known to us through history or contemporary testimony. Thus, if we wish to know the objective phenomenon, we must not be satisfied with the subjective one, but must suitably deduce the former from the latter. This, in essence, is the task of historical criticism, which goes far beyond the material critique of sources and reaches into the critique of the human psyche.

The Athenians, fearful of the Persian invasion, sent to consult the oracle of Delphi, which, among other things, responded that Zeus granted Tritogenia a wooden wall that alone would be impregnable. So the Athenians took refuge in their fleet and won at Salamis. This is how the phenomenon appeared to many contemporaries, and so it was passed down to us by Herodotus. But the objective form is clearly quite different. Today, it is to be hoped that no one still believes in Apollo, in Athena Tritogenia, or even in Zeus, and therefore some more real cause must be sought to explain the victory at Salamis, which, in fact, was prepared by Themistocles when he persuaded the Athenians to use the treasury funds on the fleet. But it is notable that Herodotus, in reporting this, makes no mention of that real cause; a fortunate coincidence had the ships ready, so it was easy to obey the oracle. And according to our author, the differing opinions of the Athenians regarding the best course of action were only concerned with finding the true meaning of Apollo’s response, some believing that the wooden walls referred to the citadel, others arguing that the god was referring to the fleet; and Themistocles himself, still according to Herodotus, spoke solely on the interpretation of the oracle’s words. Thus, the contrast between the real and the subjective phenomenon becomes all the more striking.

It is not enough to seek out the two phenomena and their correspondence; a third problem arises: how the real phenomenon works to modify the subjective one, and vice versa. Darwinism offers a very simple answer to this question, but unfortunately one that is only partly true. According to that doctrine, the correspondence between the two phenomena would be achieved through the removal of those in which such correspondence does not exist.

Yet, in the case mentioned, there was no such removal, and we will never know why the Athenians embraced one [404] interpretation of the oracle rather than another, nor even whether, in his interpretations, Themistocles was sincere. Nowadays, when similar events occur, there is neither absolute credulity nor absolute disbelief; thus, if it were legitimate to judge the people of the past by those of today, we would be inclined to believe that the real cause, Athens' naval power, was influencing Themistocles unconsciously, and that, so impelled, he first persuaded himself and then others that the god had indeed meant the fleet.

The example we have chosen may seem to some superfluous because it is too obvious, but whoever thinks so would quickly change their mind if presented with some modern example, essentially identical to the ancient one. [2] How many in France invoke the “immortal principles of 1789” and the “defense of the republic,” or in other countries the “defense of the glorious monarchy,” just as Themistocles interpreted the oracle, and thus give imaginary reasons for their actions, while concealing the real ones? It has always been true that we see the speck in our neighbor’s eye but not the beam in our own, and those who laugh at ancient superstitions have very often merely replaced them with modern ones, which are no more reasonable or real than the old.

Let us turn to much less well-known considerations, which must later be combined with those just noted.

Economic crises, which, to tell the truth, are simply a particular case of the law of rhythm that Spencer assigned to [405] movement in general, have been carefully studied in our times, especially through the work of Jevons, Clément Juglar, and other capable men. In my Cours d’Économie politique, [3] I expressed the opinion, which further studies have confirmed, that these crises depend not only on purely economic causes, but also on human nature, and are nothing other than one of the many manifestations of psychological rhythm. This rhythm appears in other forms too, as I also noted at the time; in moral philosophy, in religion, in politics, one observes fluctuations very similar to the economic ones. [4] These did not escape the notice of historians, but, except for theories such as that of (historical) cycles, which stray too far from the truth, they were generally not considered as partial manifestations of rhythmic movement. Only here and there is some analogy noted among the most striking examples. [5]

All those who have studied Roman history have observed the great fluctuations by which the educated classes [6] passed from incredulity, as it appears toward the end of the Republic and in the first century of our era, to credulity, which we find toward the end of the Empire.

The religious current from which Christianity later emerged—Christianity which triumphed not without deeply transforming itself and not without broadly assimilating the principles of competing doctrines, was general and overwhelmed the entire ancient world. Pagan authors hold Christian-like maxims and thoughts, so much so that it was even supposed there were relations between Seneca and Saint Paul to explain the former’s sentiments. Renan recognized that Christianity was nothing more than one of the many forms taken at that time by religious feeling. [7] We are used to seeing in the history of that time a battle between Christianity and other [406] religions or doctrines, which we assume to be essentially different, and we imagine that modern history would have been entirely different had the cult of Mithras, or some other Oriental cult, triumphed instead of Christianity, or if paganism had been reborn.

None of this holds up. A fierce battle did indeed exist among the sects A, B, C..., all of which stemmed from a single cause X, namely, the heightened religious feeling. But the principal fact is precisely X, and the facts A, B, C... are merely secondary. It cannot be said that they had no importance at all, since form also has some value in modifying phenomena determined by substance, but the error lies in giving first place to something that belongs in second.

D'Orbigny, speaking of Bolivia, says:

“At the entrance to the valley and at the summit of each slope, I noticed all along the road mounds of stones of various sizes, most often topped with a wooden cross... I learned, and later had the opportunity to confirm by finding them throughout the part of the Republic of Bolivia inhabited by the Indians, that these were apachectas. These mounds existed before the arrival of the Spaniards. They were made by burdened natives who, laboriously climbing the steep slopes, gave thanks to Pachacamac—or the invisible god, mover of all things—for having given them the strength to reach the summit, while also asking him for new strength to continue their journey. They would stop, rest for a moment, throw a few eyebrow hairs to the wind, or else deposit on the pile of stones the coca they were chewing—as the most precious thing to them—or if they were poor, they simply picked up a stone from the surroundings and added it to the pile. Today, nothing has changed; only now the native no longer thanks Pachacamac, but rather the God of the Christians, whose symbol is the cross.” [8]

“In Sicily,” says Maury, “the Virgin took possession of all the sanctuaries of Ceres and Venus, and the pagan rites were in part redirected toward her.” [9] Now, here it is evident that there is a common feeling, which manifests in various forms, and that those forms are of secondary importance compared to the feeling. “The fountain,” Maury adds, “continues to receive in the name of a saint the [407] offerings it once received as a deity.” [10] In this case, what is the principal fact? The feeling that drives people to propitiate the fountain, or the manifestation of that feeling through invocation of this or that saint, this or that divinity? The answer is not in doubt. Believing that the intervention of some divine being can heal the eyes is the principal fact; turning therefore to Asclepius or to Saint Lucy is secondary. The same holds for invoking the Christian Devil instead of the pagan Hecate, the principal point is the belief in the power of such invocation. It is not entirely accurate to represent one belief as having originated from the other; it is far closer to the truth to see them as having both arisen from a single source, namely the human feeling that one can compel mysterious powers to serve oneself.

Now it becomes clear how the victory of sect A over sects B, C... is often a victory of form and not of substance. Between the ideas of Lucian, on one hand, and those of the admirers of the prophet Alexander, on the other, there is certainly a question of substance; and if mankind had been won over by Lucian’s ideas, the history of Europe would be entirely different from the one we know. But between the ideas of the admirers of Alexander and those of the admirers of other prophets, it is, if not exclusively, almost entirely a question of form, and history would have changed very little if these or those had won, especially since the victor is always forced to make, even in form, concessions to the vanquished.

This is not the place to investigate how those great currents of feeling arise and gain strength, whether they originate, as the materialist interpretation of history claims, solely from economic conditions, or whether other causes, which cannot be reduced to these, also contribute. Attempting to solve all problems at once is an essentially unscientific method; instead, they must be studied one at a time. Today, we take the existence of these currents as a given; at another time and place, we will attempt to delve further into the inquiry.

Men, usually unaware of being swept up by these currents, and who, as already noted, wish to present as voluntary what is involuntary, and as logical what is illogical, come up [408] strangely imaginary reasons, and with these they deceive themselves and others about the true causes of their actions. Often the formal disputes among sects A, B… dissolve into incoherent arguments; and anyone, for example, who studies the quarrels of the Christian sects during the Byzantine period ends up feeling as though they are in a madhouse. And generally, even when some question of substance lies beneath these formal disputes, one is reminded of what Montesquieu said of theological books: “Doubly unintelligible, both because of the subject matter they treat and the manner in which they treat it.” [11] When reading the speeches of certain French “nationalists,” one begins to doubt whether those people are entirely sane, yet beneath those words, insipid in appearance and in fact, there lies a most serious question of substance, since “nationalism” is now the only form in which resistance to socialism takes shape in France.

Even when a dispute is reasonable, it rarely happens that the reasons given refer to the substance. In France, on the eve of the 1789 Revolution, people spoke of nothing but “humanity,” “sensibility,” “fraternity”, while in fact, Jacobin massacres and looting were being prepared. Now the old game begins again, and our bourgeoisie eloquently speaks of “solidarity,” all while preparing for itself disasters that will reduce it to nothing.

People, except during brief intervals, are always governed by an aristocracy, [12] understanding this term in its etymological sense and using it to mean the strongest, most energetic, and capable individuals, both for good and for ill. [13] But due to a physiological law of great importance, aristocracies do not last, and thus human history is the history of the succession of these aristocracies: while one rises, another declines. This is the real phenomenon, though it often appears to us in another form. The new aristocracy, which wants to overthrow the old or even just to share in its power and honors, does not frankly express this aim, but instead becomes the champion of all the oppressed. It claims to seek not its own benefit, but that of the many; and it launches the assault not in the name of the rights of a narrow class, but in that of the rights of nearly all citizens. Needless to say, once victorious, it forces its allies back under the yoke, or at most grants them some superficial concessions.

[409]

Such is the history of the struggles between the aristocracy of the plebs and the patricians at Rome; such also, well noted by modern socialists, is the history of the victory of the bourgeoisie over the aristocracy of feudal origin.

Professor Pantaleoni, in a recent work [14], denies that socialism is destined to win; I have maintained that its victory is highly probable and almost inevitable [15]. The two opinions may seem contradictory, but they are not, because we are speaking of different things: Pantaleoni turns his mind to the subjective phenomenon; I, to the objective one. In the end, we are in agreement.

Suppose that, when the first Christian communities were arising in Judea, someone had reasoned as follows: “These people will never rule the world. It is a fable to believe that all differences in wealth, education, and social rank can vanish among men. It is foolish to suppose that all men will truly be brothers, that they will renounce all sensual pleasures, that in a woman’s flesh they will see only the splendors of eternal life. Rest assured that a thousand years from now there will still be rich and poor, kings and subjects, powerful and humble; be certain that many living people will still be conquered by gluttony, lust, and rage, and that these new brothers will even kill each other by treachery.” This person would have spoken truly, and certainly the kingdom of Christ, as imagined by the first Christians, is still far off; but whoever had asserted that Christianity would be victorious would also not have spoken falsely, and the facts bear witness to this. A single name here indicates many different things.

A more complete comparison can be drawn from times closer to us, and therefore better known. Let us pretend we are in France at the dawn of the 1789 Revolution. One man says:

“These good folks who want to reform the State are dreaming. But who can believe in that social contract? — The general will cannot err. — Bravo, and that’s why there’s no error so gross, no insane superstition that hasn’t had nearly a whole people, and often almost all people, on its side at some time and place. — Men are all born good; only priests and kings make them bad. — Yes, not even children believe these fables anymore. If your new government is based on that fine principle, you’ll have to wait many thousands of years [410] before seeing it in practice. — The reign of reason is at hand. — What a poor psychologist you are; the majority of human actions will continue for many, many centuries to be determined by feeling. — Under the empire of reason, good, honest, virtuous, ‘sensitive’ commoners will gently and peacefully change the present state of affairs [16]. — Whoever believes that can also believe that the fiercest beasts have become gentle doves. Get out of here—your entire literature rests on falsehood; and your elegant ladies swooning as they chirp about the virtues of ‘natural man’ are silly girls who don’t know what they’re saying. The next century, rest assured, will have men more or less like those of our own, and the new era longed for by your philosophers is not about to dawn.”

Another replies:

“Excellent; all of that is true. Neither now nor ever will ochlocracy (mob rule) stably govern. You are right, the idyll of peace and virtue sung by our philosophers is about as real as a fairy tale. But look beneath those words and see what lies hidden: you’ll see the rise of an oligarchy which seeks to overthrow and replace the one that currently governs us. The victory of this new oligarchy is certain because energy and strength lie on its side. That victory could be bloodless if the old aristocracy were strong, and at the same time tolerant and wise—if, mindful of the saying si vis pacem, para bellum (if you want peace prepare for war), it showed itself on one hand prepared to fight manfully, and on the other hand knew how to suitably welcome into its ranks all those rising from the plebs who are about to form the new aristocracy [17]. Instead, the change will cost the old aristocracy many tears and much blood, because it, almost struck by madness, on one side disarms and weakens itself with foolish humanitarian declamations, and on the other rejects the new aristocracy, thus forcing it to wage battle.”

[411]

Events unfolded precisely in a way that showed both opinions to be true, and they are by no means contradictory.

De Tocqueville observed that “the French Revolution was a political revolution that acted like a religious one and in some ways took on its appearance.” One may set aside what is debatable in this statement and firmly state that the French Revolution was a religious revolution, prepared by the upper classes, [18] later carried out against them, and which gave power to a new chosen class—namely, the bourgeoisie.

It has been said that the Revolution was the daughter of Voltaire and the Encyclopedists; this is true only in a small part and in a certain sense, namely, in the sense that humanitarian skepticism had enfeebled the upper classes. The influence of Voltaire and the Encyclopedists on the lower classes [19] was virtually nil, and the Revolution was primarily a reaction of the religious sentiments (understood in the broad sense) of the lower classes against the skepticism of the upper classes. The same occurred, in part, at the time of the Reformation. Then too, the theocratic upper classes were becoming skeptical, and the popes cared much more for earthly matters than for heavenly ones. It is no coincidence that the Reformation arose among the rough northern people, where Christian religious sentiment was stronger, and made few converts in refined and skeptical Italy. At that time, the religious reaction took a Christian form; in 1789, in France, it took the form of a social, patriotic, revolutionary, and even anti-Christian religion. In both cases, the sentiments were of the same kind, though they took different forms.

The rule of the new aristocracy born of the French Revolution, that is, the bourgeoisie, has lasted briefly and already shows signs of steep decline, at least in France, barely a century after its rise. It is true, however, that in the United States of America, in Germany, and in other countries, it still retains considerable strength.

If we consider the phenomenon from the objective standpoint, three major categories of facts strike us: 1. a growing intensity of religious feeling, which shows that we are in the ascending period of the crisis; [20] 2. the decline of the old aristocracy; [21] 3. the rise of a new aristocracy. [22]

Subjectively, the first of these categories is perceived by the mind without being too distorted; however, the other two [412] take on a form very different from the real one: the decline of the old aristocracy appears as the growth of humanitarian and altruistic sentiments; the rise of the new aristocracy appears as the vindication of the humble and the weak against the powerful and the strong.

The ascending period of the religious crisis.↩

Even the most superficial observation is enough to see that, among civilized people, religious sentiment has grown in recent years and continues to grow. This has benefited not only already existing religious forms, such as the various Christian denominations, but has chiefly given strength to a new order of religious sentiments, which are manifested in socialism. Many able men, both among the socialists and their opponents, have clearly seen that socialism is now a religion; and anyone who studies history must recognize that this religious phenomenon is among the most magnificent ever seen, and can only be compared to the rise of Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, the Protestant Reformation, or the French Revolution.

Moreover, patriotism has become exalted and takes on the form of religion: in Germany, where an authoritative journal even speaks of the “German god”; in England, with imperialism; in France, with nationalism; in the United States of America, with jingoism, etc.

Alongside these great phenomena, which appear in the revival of ancient religions and in the birth of a new and powerful one, other lesser phenomena show us how religious sentiment is invading all expressions of human activity; in fact, it seems that these now have an irresistible tendency to take on a religious form [23].

Here, for example, are some good people who believe that the use of alcoholic beverages is harmful to the human race. Their activity does not remain within the modest and tempered limits of an ordinary hygienic measure but extends even into the realm of religious exaltation [24]. [413] Ascetics, apostles, martyrs arise, ready for every sacrifice, provided they can prevent a human being from drinking a glass of wine; and when they succeed, they say they have “saved a man,” just as the Christian apostle says he has “saved a soul” [25]. There are [414] sects, such as the anti-alcoholic one called the Buoni templari (Good Templars), that can be compared to religious congregations like the Dominicans, Franciscans, or others of the sort. They have initiations, cultic ceremonies, mysterious bonds, and they exalt themselves with mystical harangues. Moreover, not a few hygienists nowadays are so zealous in defending their doctrines that they seem mad to anyone who has not completely lost the light of reason; and they would almost go so far as to kill a man in order to keep him healthy, less reasonably than the Inquisition, which burned him to save his soul.

Others have taken it upon themselves to hunt down “immoral literature,” and they too go beyond the moderate limits of honest censorship. Certainly, among them are highly respectable people, deserving of every praise, but it is strange to see how there are people so fixated on this subject that they cannot, they are unable to turn their minds to anything else. These individuals express the most moralistic concepts in the most indecent terms; in one place, they even had students in secondary schools sign a petition to shut down brothels, and the wording of the petition was obscene. Sometimes, when speaking with one of the more fanatical among them, you see his face flush, his eyes gleam, and, in short, all the signs appear that are seen in a man when he longs for a woman, while this fellow endlessly discusses sexual union and shows an incredibly intense hatred for any man who enjoys amorous pleasures.

But here, besides religious feeling in general, another cause is at work, which, if I am not mistaken, is the following. It has already been observed that sometimes erotic feeling takes on the guise of religious feeling, and many such cases have been reported, especially among hysterical women. Now it happens that there are some men who, had they lived in another time, for example, toward the end of the eighteenth century, would undoubtedly have given in to the erotic feelings that dominate them, but who today, feeling remorse due to the different environment in which they live, withdraw from action as much as they can, and feed their uncontainable appetite with words. In short, they are happy to find an opportunity [415] to concern themselves morally with something immoral and to be at peace with their conscience while procuring for themselves a certain kind of enjoyment [26]. A friend of mine knew a rich and beautiful lady, not exactly chaste in her younger years, who, as she aged, but still had the power to stir desire, became deeply and sincerely religious, and with admirable zeal and great sacrifices, dedicated every moment to an endeavor to lead prostitutes away from vice. My friend was convinced of the honesty of her intentions and explained her incredible fervor for that apostolate by the idea that, in doing so, she obtained a reflection of the past and still longed-for pleasures, not only without remorse but indeed with the conscience of doing a good deed. As for the bitter hatred that some fanatical moralist shows toward the less ascetic man, it originates not only from that religious and sectarian feeling that demands the heretic be silenced and destroyed, but also from that envy which, unconsciously and unwillingly, is felt by the non-pleasure-seeker toward the pleasure-seeker, the eunuch toward the virile man.

Vegetarians are also a fairly ridiculous sect. They have calculated that cultivated land can produce far more wheat and rice than meat, and so they want to take meat away from us to increase the supply of food. A mystical-social sect has also arisen, which, citing certain physiological experiments in support of its thesis, claims that we all eat too much and wants to put us on a strict diet. With this, these worthy individuals say, “the social question” will be solved, because there will be food for a larger number of people, and above all, it will be possible to have many more children. For these poor fanatics, there is no greater crime than the union of man and woman without the birth of a child. Malthus is their Satan; they would burn all Greek and Latin poets for being insufficiently chaste; their ideal is a nation of ascetics who do not eat meat, do not drink wine, and do not feel any emotion of love except [416] liberorum quaerendorum causa (for the sake of having children), and whose only pleasure will perhaps remain to sing hymns to solidarity. [27]

These ascetics are to the socialists as the Montanists are to the orthodox Christian church. That church always had much to do to rid itself of those who foolishly exaggerated its doctrine; expelled on one side, they reappeared on the other, down to the flagellants of the Middle Ages and the visionary Jansenists [28].

[417]

Anyone living in Italy and who has not spent a long time abroad, long enough to know not only the majority, who are sane, but also the little cliques of fanatics, cannot have a clear idea of the doctrines of modern ascetics and will think exaggerated those accounts that still fall far short of the truth [29]. Italy has always been, since Roman times, a rather irreligious country. Who knows whether it may one day produce a new Renaissance, like the one too soon halted by the Protestant Reformation.

Spiritism, occultism, and other such superstitions now have quite a few followers and gain strength from the general growth of religious sentiment. Here we have people who take seriously the ravings of a poor hysterical woman who writes in the language spoken on the planet Mars; and on that fine scientific topic, conferences are held, attended by crowds of women and girls enamored of mysticism. The archangel Gabriel chirps in Paris through the mouth of a young girl; charlatans of every kind cure the sick with mystical operations; and if we lack a Lucian to narrate their deeds, we are not lacking those who play the part of Alexander of Abonoteichus.

When we are not in the ascending period of the crisis, such fantasies remain within a small circle of men and have little effect; but during that period, their influence greatly expands and helps to accelerate the general movement.

In literature, in art, and in science, mysticism, “symbolism,” and other such vanities which appear to be something make wide inroads. You may still choose the religious form to which you want to dedicate [418] a hymn [30], but the hymn must not be lacking anything, otherwise, the public won’t buy the book, and no publisher will want to print it.

Our new mystics believe they are reasoning, but in reality they gravely offend logic and most often can do no more than repeat the nonsense of ancient mystics. For example, to prove, let’s say, that there is some truth to a story about the transmigration of a human being to the planet Mars, they tell us with great solemnity that “science cannot explain everything.” Very true; but just because Titius cannot explain a phenomenon, it does not logically follow that he must accept Caius’s explanation. If Titius does not know what thunder is, he is not, therefore, logically compelled to agree with Caius that it is produced by Jupiter. Others, with more refined cunning, repeat an argument that is also quite old and, in essence, say: “This thing must be true because it is useful for man that it be true.” Now people have rediscovered a truth known for many centuries: that man is guided by feeling [419] more than by reason. From this, one may deduce that religious feeling plays a notable role in maintaining the social order, but from that alone, one cannot determine precisely how large that role must be in order to achieve the greatest social utility. Still less can one deduce that form A, rather than forms B, C, etc., is the one useful to mankind. A line of reasoning that essentially says: “Man is largely guided by feeling, therefore he must completely submit to a religion, which therefore must be A,” is a type of illogical reasoning. The anti-alcoholics inject wine under the skin of a little animal, which dies in convulsions, and from this they deduce, as a logical consequence, that man must not drink wine! They even experiment on humans. They observe that in someone who has ingested alcoholic beverages, the transmission of sensations to the brain becomes slower for a short time. From this, they conclude that alcohol is a poison to the nervous system and that man must abstain from it. If such reasoning is logical, then so is the following: Immediately after eating, while one is digesting, the brain becomes sluggish and all intellectual operations slow down; therefore, food is a poison to the nervous system, and man must abstain from it… and die of hunger. If, as some say, the use of alcoholic drinks will destroy the species in a few years, [420] then the water-drinkers need only let time do its work, soon, through natural selection, they alone will remain in the world. In fact, it is astonishing that since the days of Noah, this hasn’t already come to pass.

They say that, in the name of “solidarity,” A must give money to B, because A must take pleasure in B’s well-being; but by the same logic, B should, again in the name of solidarity, refuse to plunder [31] A and cause him serious harm and displeasure. It is observed that society is an organic whole, and that the suffering of one part B of that whole reverberates onto part A; from this it is deduced that A must help B—and must help in a certain way. The conclusion is not logical. 1. A might just as well eliminate B, as one has a limb amputated when gangrene sets in. 2. If that method of helping B results in the proliferation of degenerate individuals unsuited to their environment, then the help given to B will harm not only part A, but all of society.

It is a vain effort to demonstrate the falsity of such arguments, since the men who use them were not persuaded by them in the first place, but rather invented them to justify after the fact what they were already persuaded of; and so, even if it were to happen, though it would be most unusual, that the demonstration was so clear and compelling as to impose itself upon the minds of those men and to force them to abandon those arguments, nothing would be gained except to see them replaced by others equally or even more erroneous, while their belief, which arises from an entirely different origin, would remain unaltered, with very rare exceptions.

Not even the positive sciences are safe from the invasive religious sentiment. An esteemed astronomer, H. Faye, while discussing the origins of the solar system, feels the need to say:

“Let us not leave these primitive times without paying homage to the first chapter of Genesis. It proves that humanity did not begin either with the silliness of fetishism, or with the charming absurdities of polytheism, or with the degrading fantasies of astrology.” [32]

Who knows whether the author truly believes that the first chapter of Genesis describes primitive humanity? Has he never heard of historical research on ancient people, nor of studies on prehistoric humans? He ends his book saying that life will one day end, “but we hope, we [421] believe that it will not be the same for the works of intelligence that will have brought us closer to our divine model. These do not need light, nor warmth, nor a new earth in order to persist; they are preserved so as not to perish.” It is not clear what the author means or how these “works of intelligence” will persist when all life has been extinguished. Faced with such babble, the doctrine of metempsychosis is a model of scientific precision. Luckily, among the “works of intelligence” destined to survive when the earth is deserted by every living being, the author did not include “solidarity”; perhaps we shall find it turning up in some other astronomy treatise. A Laplace once spoke quite differently from Faye, but wise men change with the times.

Even the Copernican and Galilean theories are now indirectly under threat. Mansion, a competent mathematician, in a communication to the International Scientific Congress of Catholics (April 4, 1891), wrestles to show that the Ptolemaic system was ultimately just as valid, or almost, as the modern one:

“Another, deeper reason for choosing the geocentric system is the following: the ancients clearly distinguished between astronomy as a science of celestial phenomena and the search for the causes of the movements of the stars... Hence, the choice of astronomical hypotheses was indifferent to them, and there was no drawback to adopting the geocentric viewpoint, more in keeping with appearances and of more direct application than the other.”

Still, it takes quite a bit of gall to try to convince us that the ancients could have followed Newtonian theory, had they wished, but chose Ptolemy’s because it was “more in keeping with appearances and of more direct application.”

Brunetière, who knows very little astronomy, exclaims: “Leave us in peace with your Galileo”; our author, who is a capable scientist, skirts around with subtle distinctions:

“In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, before and after the trial of Galileo, the distinction between the philosophical explanation of astronomical phenomena and the astronomical explanation itself was familiar to scholars; at that time, thanks to this distinction, it was perfectly understood that Galileo could be condemned in the name of philosophy without this in any way hindering astronomical research.” [33]

[422]

Poor Galileo, if he came back to life, our neo-Catholics would probably throw him back in prison! That gentleman Mansion is moderately amusing when he tells us that having condemned and imprisoned Galileo “did not in any way hinder astronomical research.”

Leaving aside now these secondary signs and returning to the main ones, it seems likely that the rise of religious feeling will benefit socialism more than the old religious forms, since it is a new form. This has generally been the case in great religious crises. Whether that advantage will extend to the destruction of the old beliefs, as happened with Christianity in relation to paganism, or whether it will allow them to coexist, as with Buddhism and the Protestant Reformation, is still unclear; but the latter hypothesis seems to me more likely, provided, of course, that socialism modifies itself and borrows heavily from its competing religions.

The resemblance between the current socialist movement and the rise of Christianity has often been noted; but the resemblance with the Protestant Reformation, although less well known, is no less true. And let it be well understood that we must not stop at such analogies, but rather we will find others wherever a great [423] religious crisis manifests itself; and we shall soon see that the analogy goes beyond the purely religious phenomenon.

It is striking how even in certain details the correspondence is exact. It is well known how the first Christians believed that the Kingdom of Christ would soon come upon the earth, and just a few years ago, socialists believed the triumph of their doctrine was imminent. Engels made predictions in this regard that facts have already disproved, and now similar forecasts re-emerge, for a somewhat more distant future, just as they did among Christian millenarians.

“When,” says Lactantius [34], “the earth shall be oppressed and men lack the strength to resist tyrants, who, with a great army of thieves, hold the world in subjugation, then divine aid will be needed for so great a calamity.”

And the socialists said and say: when wealth is concentrated in a few hands and economic crises grow more frequent and intense, collectivism will necessarily come to the world’s aid.

“The earth,” says Lactantius [35], “shall show its fertility and spontaneously produce abundant fruits. The mountain rocks shall drip with honey, wine shall flow in streams, and rivers of milk shall flood the land; the world shall rejoice, and all nature shall be joyful, freed from the reign of evil, impiety, crime, and error.”

A similar happiness awaits the world under collectivism, and many, among them let De Amicis suffice as an example, describe it.

Some Christians grew tired of waiting for the Kingdom of Christ to soon arrive on earth, and the more prudent among them realized that, to defeat their adversaries, they had to be more practical and more compromising. So, keeping the original doctrine as an ideal goal, in practice they conformed to the ordinary way of life and common concepts. Likewise, socialists now act with the “minimum program,” and Bernstein frankly points to the new path. In Holland, intransigent and revolutionary socialism is disappearing and giving way to state socialism. [36] Others have gone, and now go, even further and draw closer to the secular world. In France, socialists have become a party of government, and Millerand is part of the Waldeck-Rousseau ministry. In England, the majority of the Fabians voted in favor of imperialism; in Germany, there are many socialists who [424] would like to make love to the empire: Pastor Naumann, in his book Demokratie und Kaisertum, openly preaches that the emperor should be the head of the socialists. That Christian collectivist also preaches militarism, war and extermination for Germany’s enemies, and even for those who, without being enemies, do not wish to be its slaves [37]. From the day Jesus preached love and peace in Galilee to the day when warrior prelates donned breastplates over their vestments and killed in the name of the divine master, several centuries passed; but from the day when the German Marx announced the good news to the proletarians to the day when some German socialists replaced the motto “Proletarians of the world, unite” with “Proletarians, kill one another,” only a few years have gone by.

From these facts we shall later draw further consequences; for now, let it suffice to note that, just as in economic crises, in the present ascending period of the religious crisis, the signs are already appearing of the forces that will bring about the descending period. Naumann and his associates are neither religious, nor Christian, nor socialist, they are shrewd individuals who seek to profit from the beliefs of others, just as the popes used the meagre offerings made by Christians to build Saint Peter’s, or worse, spent it on pagan festivities. After those politically practical socialists have prevailed, some man who has preserved the old socialist faith will repeat: Ah Constantine, how much evil was born of you, and the rest that follows; and he might also add:

Now tell me, how much treasure did our Lord
Require from Saint Peter, before
He placed the keys in his keeping?
Surely, he asked no more than: Follow me.

That is: how much treasure did Marx ask of Liebknecht or of Bebel to consecrate them as his disciples?

[425]

Another illusion that will surely appear in the descending period is hypocrisy, which is now almost entirely absent from the socialist faith in countries like Italy, where socialism is persecuted, but is already peeking out in other countries like France, where the socialists are part of the government. Many politicians have become socialists to get elected to some public office, many writers to sell their books, many playwrights to please the public, many professors to obtain a university chair. Still, the evil is not yet widespread. In countries like Italy and Germany [38], where socialist faith demands sacrifice, the hypocrites keep their distance; they will flock in droves only when it begins to bring honor, power, and wealth.

Nor are hypocrites lacking in those areas we earlier identified as secondary manifestations of religious sentiment. In one city, no need to name it, the president of a society “for the uplift of morality,” which condemns sexual union outside of legal marriage as the greatest of all crimes, was forced to flee because he was being blackmailed by a prostitute who claimed to have borne him a child. At a congress against immoral literature, the president had to warn members that certain obscene prints had been brought to the congress only to arouse righteous indignation, not so that some might secretly pocket them. In Paris, there are students and young doctors who, in public, pretend to abstain from alcoholic beverages in order to win the favor of professors who are fanatical anti-alcoholics, while in private they indulge liberally not only in wine but in spirits. An anonymous author, who seems to have eluded the invasive religious sentiment, left us in the Greek Anthology an epigram joking about Irene, meaning “peace” and also a woman’s name, where it is written: “Peace to all, says the bishop as he comes; but how can she be with all, she who is shut up for him alone?” [39] Thus had the evil seed already sprouted early [426], which would later bear so rich a harvest. Wait a little, and Boccaccio’s mocked friars will find worthy successors.

In every age, human thought tends to express itself in the forms current in society. A few centuries ago, every discourse was clothed in the language of Christian religion. Machiavelli ridicules this custom when, in the Mandragola, he has Friar Timoteo cite sacred authors and Christian doctrine to persuade Madonna Lucrezia to give in to her lover’s desires. Today, Friar Timoteo would have brought up “solidarity” and humanitarian maxims [40].

Another similarity between the present crisis and others should be noted: the proliferation of sects. Early Christianity maintained unity and orthodoxy through the institution of the papacy. So far, the congresses, or ecumenical socialist councils, have been able to maintain a certain degree of unity, and in Germany, Bebel and Liebknecht have managed, if not to dispel, at least to quiet heresy; but the question remains open for the future, and the approach taken will be worth observing.

The decline of the old aristocracy.↩

This aristocracy, still the ruling class, [41] consists mainly of the bourgeoisie, and to a small extent of remnants of other aristocracies.

When an aristocracy declines, two signs are generally observed to appear simultaneously: 1. That aristocracy becomes more gentle, more mild, more humane, and less able to defend [427] its own power. 2. On the other hand, its greed and covetousness for the property of others does not diminish, and it strives as much as it can to increase its unlawful appropriations, to make greater usurpations upon the national patrimony. So that on one side it makes its yoke heavier, and on the other has less strength to maintain it. From these two elements arises the catastrophe in which that aristocracy perishes, whereas it could have survived had one of the two been absent. Thus, if its power does not diminish but grows, it may also increase its appropriations; and if these diminish, it may, though more rarely, preserve its dominion with less strength. Thus the feudal nobility, when it was on the rise, could increase its usurpationsbecause its power was also growing; thus the Roman aristocracy and the English aristocracy were able, by yielding at the right time, to preserve their power. Instead, the French aristocracy, eager to preserve its privileges, and perhaps even to increase them, while its power to defend them was dwindling, provoked the violent revolution of the late eighteenth century. In short, there must be a certain balance between the power a social class enjoys and the force it has at its disposal to defend it. Power without force is something that cannot last.

Aristocracies often end in anemia; they retain a certain passive courage but entirely lack active courage. One is astonished to see how, in imperial Rome, the men of the aristocracy, without attempting the slightest defense, committed suicide or allowed themselves to be killed, simply to please Caesar; a similar feeling of astonishment strikes us when we see how many nobles in France died on the guillotine instead of falling in battle, weapons in hand [42].

[428]

To great amazement, Rome saw the ancient aristocratic vigor blossom again in Silanus. Besieged in Bari, he replied to the centurion urging him to open his veins (suadentique venas abrumpere) that he was ready to die, but also to fight, and though unarmed, he did not stop defending himself and to strike with his bare hands as best he could, until he fell, as in combat, pierced by wounds received from the front [43].

Had Louis XVI possessed the spirit of Silanus, he might have saved himself and his own, and perhaps spared his nation much blood and sorrow. Even on August 10, he could still have fought with hope of victory. “If the king had wished to fight, he could still have defended himself, saved himself, and even won,” says Taine [44].But the aristocracy of that time closely resembled today’s bourgeoisie, [429] as we see in countries like France, where democratic evolution is most advanced. Taine speaks of that era, and his words precisely describe France’s present condition when he says:

“At the end of the eighteenth century, in the upper and even in the middle class, there was a horror of blood; the gentleness of manners and idyllic dreams had softened the will to fight. (And now the French bourgeoisie dreams sweetly once more.) Everywhere, magistrates forgot that the maintenance of society and civilization is an infinitely greater good than the lives of a handful of criminals and madmen, that the primary purpose of government—like that of the police—is the preservation of order through the use of force.” [45]

The same phenomenon was seen in Rome and prepared the fall of the Empire [46]; and now, once again, we see it repeating among our bourgeoisie, so that the end will likely not differ from what has previously been observed [47].

At present, this phenomenon can be seen in almost all civilized states, but it is most evident in France and Belgium, which are the countries furthest advanced in radical-socialist evolution and, in a certain sense, mark the goal toward which evolution in general is trending.

A superficial observation is enough to see that in those countries the ruling class is being swept along by a sentimental and humanitarian current entirely similar to the one that existed at the end of the eighteenth century. The sensitivity of that class has become almost morbid and threatens to render penal laws entirely ineffective. Every day, new laws are devised to come to the aid of poor thieves, charming murderers, and where no new law exists, a convenient [430] interpretation of the old one comes to the rescue. At Château-Thierry, a judge, now famous, sets aside the law and rules according to the blind passions of the mob [48]. The bourgeoisie resigns itself and remains silent. If another judge dares to do his duty, he is viewed with suspicion, and even ridiculed on the stage. With all repression lacking, vagabonds have become a true scourge in the countryside; in isolated cottages, they make demands under threat; out of vengeance, malice, or mere recklessness, they set fire to the castles of the wealthy, arson has now become frequent. The authorities see all this and do nothing, because they know that if they rigorously perform their duty, there will be questions in Parliament and perhaps the fall of the ministry. Even stranger is the behavior of the victims, who remain silent and resign themselves, as if facing ills for which there is no remedy. The more courageous among them merely hope that some general or other will repeat the operation of Napoleon III and rid them of this plague.

Crimes committed during strikes go unpunished; judges sometimes pronounce a sentence, but it is only formal, pardon follows immediately, either imposed by the workers or spontaneously granted by the government, “to pacify the spirits.” The workers have inherited the privileges of the gentlemen of old, they are, in fact, above the law. They even have a special court of their own, namely that of the probiviri ("Honest Men" or Arbitrators), who always condemn the “employer” and the “bourgeois,” even when they are entirely in the right. Where there is [431] that parody of justice, the honest lawyer advises you not to file suit, for you would surely lose. Naturally, socialist democracy wants to extend the jurisdiction of that exceptional court. The ecclesiastical court was abolished, and behold, the workers’ court has arisen. Athenian democracy ruined the rich through lawsuits, it was imitated by the democracies of the Italian republics [49], and it is now imitated by modern democracy. For that matter, aristocracies, when they held power, did worse still; thus, nothing can be concluded from these facts against this or that form of government [50] they are simply [432] a sign indicating which class is declining and which is rising. Where class A has legal privileges and the laws are interpreted unjustly in its favor and against class B, it is evident that A dominates or is about to dominate B, and vice versa.

Jury verdicts are also a sign in that direction, showing that the bourgeoisie has adopted the worst sentiments of the mob.

Where a little romance is involved, bourgeois sentimentality reveals itself as stupidly malicious. Among many examples, one recent case will suffice. A gentleman, himself childishly sentimental, marries a prostitute “to rehabilitate her”; later, living together becomes impossible, he seeks a divorce, and his wife kills him. The jury acquits her, and listen now to the fine reasoning of the accused:

“One cannot grieve for a man who, in the decline of life, fails to complete the good deed he began. What I regret is that I was forced to kill him because he left me. I also killed him because he asked for a divorce, because he covered me with disgrace, staining his name at the same time. Divorce, me? Never! So there was only one solution.” [51]

One sees here the influence of feminism and of all the declamations on stage, in novels, in the press, in defense of prostitutes. The murdered man had been infected with these very theories, he wrote to his wife: “I had taken you like Fantine from Les Misérables, and I had faith in your rehabilitation.” What a good man! Instead of listening to Victor Hugo, to Dumas fils, and to other praise-singers of the fallen woman, [433] he would have done better to marry an honest girl. Certainly, the fault he committed in believing such empty rhetoric may have merited punishment, but death was perhaps a bit excessive. And moreover, the manner and the person by whom it was inflicted offend justice. It may appear, to anyone not entirely drunk on “humanitarian” doctrines, that those good, sentimental, feminist jurors might have had at least some doubt about the theory that whoever “does not complete a good deed once begun” deserves to be killed by the very person he sought to benefit.

The fate of that humanitarian so poorly rewarded is an image of what befell the humanitarian French aristocracy at the time of the Revolution, and of what awaits our bourgeoisie, which will surely atone, through plunder [52] and perhaps even the noose and the guillotine, for the sin of “not completing the good deed” to which it is now entirely devoted, if not in deeds, then at least in words, by striving to uplift, rehabilitate, and exalt the wretched, the degenerate, the vicious, and the criminal.

… So long as the sun
Shines upon human misfortunes,

The sheep will be eaten by the wolf [53]; the only thing left is for those who know and can, not to become sheep.

At the banquet of the Republican Committee of Commerce and Industry, held on June 22, 1900, Millerand opened with the usual phrases and declared himself moved by the mention made “of the efforts I have undertaken to bring about some progress in the path of social justice, where the Republic must always march forward, never stopping, and in the work of social reparation, which consists in leaning toward the most unfortunate and trying to bring them more [434] justice and well-being.” And then he tried to win over those bourgeois, speaking to them of alliance: “Our ministry has demonstrated the necessity of an alliance between the bourgeoisie and the workers, and we must be proud of it.” None of those present recalled the old fable:

Nunquam est fidelis cum potente societas ;
(Never is there loyalty in alliance with the powerful);

nor dared respond to the citizen, “comrade,” and minister: “When we have helped you defeat the nationalists, you will do as the lion in the fable and take everything:

Sic totam praedam sola improbitas abstulit .
(Thus did sheer greed carry off the entire prize).

“In fact, you’ve already begun. You call us allies and yet allow us to be robbed with impunity. To complete the work, your friend Jaurès, whom you’ve brought into the Office du travail (Labour Office), proposes that if the majority of workers wish to strike, the minority should be forced by public authority to comply, and the employer should be forbidden from hiring any of the striking workers or other outside laborers.” There were many industrialists present, and none dared utter a word. People so lacking in courage truly deserve no respect, and Millerand, thinking of them, might well have recalled the saying of Tiberius about another degenerate aristocracy: O homines ad servitutem paratos (O men fit for servitude).

It is pitiable to see how all parties now court and flatter the people. Even a man like Galliffet says, in the French Chamber, that he is a socialist! Everyone prostrates themselves before the new sovereign, and in his presence becomes cowardly [54].

[435]

In this ever-growing weakness of the bourgeoisie lies, in part, the origin of the new religious fervor that is invading that class, and thus also one of the many causes of the present religious crisis. It has often been said that when the devil grows old, he becomes a monk; just as a courtesan, when she ages, withdraws from vice and becomes a pious churchgoer. The case of our bourgeoisie is not entirely the same, for it has indeed become pious, but without withdrawing in the least from vice.

The humanitarian and sentimental feelings it flaunts are inflated, artificial, and false. Let it be granted that prostitutes, thieves, and murderers deserve compassion, but does the honest housewife, do respectable men, not deserve it as well? It is a fine and noble thing to sympathize with the sufferings of today’s poor and to try to alleviate them, but are the sufferings of tomorrow’s poor, that is, of the man who is well-off today and is to be plundered and reduced to poverty, of a different nature? In truth, today’s bourgeoisie does not look that far ahead; it exploits the present and lets the deluge come. Its sensitivity is expressed in words, and often conceals shameful profits. The weak are usually also cowardly, they commit theft [55] by sleight of hand, but do not dare resort to armed robbery.

Declining aristocracies are accustomed to display humanitarian sentiments and great kindness, but such kindness, when it is not simply weakness, is more apparent than real. Seneca was a perfect Stoic, but he had vast wealth, magnificent palaces, and countless slaves. The French nobles who applauded Rousseau knew how to extract heavy payments from their “tenants,” and their new love for virtue did not prevent them from squandering, in orgies with prostitutes, the money extorted from starving peasants. Today in France, a landowner has his fellow citizens pay him several thousand lire through tariffs on grain and livestock; he donates a hundred lire or so to a “People’s University,” and thus fattens his purse, quiets his conscience, and even hopes to win some popular election. Feeling pity for the poor and wretched amid luxury provides a pleasant titillation to the senses. How many [436] today are landowners but will be socialists in the future, thus feeding from two troughs. That future is so distant, who knows when it will come! In the meantime, it is sweet to enjoy one’s wealth and talk about equality, to curry friendships, win public office, sometimes even find good opportunities to profit, and to pay with words and promises for a time far off. There is always profit to be had by exchanging a sure good for promissory notes due at such a distant and uncertain date.

The sum improperly appropriated by the ruling class [56] through protective tariffs, subsidies for shipping and sugar and similar things, state-subsidized enterprises, syndicates, trusts, etc., is enormous, and certainly comparable to the amounts extorted by ruling classes in other times. The only advantage for the nation is that the method of shearing the sheep [57] has been refined, so that for the same amount of wealth extorted, the amount wasted is less. The feudal lord who plundered travelers hindered the growth of commerce, stole a few coins, and indirectly destroyed many more lire; his successor, who profits from protective tariffs, unjustly appropriates a greater amount of wealth while indirectly destroying less.

Our ruling class [58] is insatiable; as its power diminishes, its acts of malfeasance increase. Every day in France, Italy, Germany, and America, it demands new tariff hikes, new measures to protect shopkeepers, new commercial restrictions under the pretext of health regulations, new subsidies of every kind. In Italy, under Depretis, the government sent soldiers to harvest the fields of landowners who refused to pay the wages demanded by free harvesters—and now this fine practice is being renewed. It seems the feudal corvées are returning. Soldiers, instead of being used solely to defend the homeland, serve the landowning gentlemen to depress wages below what free competition would establish.

Such is the way our excellent “humanitarians” go about plundering the poor. Anti-tuberculosis congresses are admirable things, but better still would be not to steal the bread from the mouths of the starving; and it would be good either to be a little less “humanitarian,” or to have a little more respect for other people’s stuff.

There is not the slightest sign that the ruling class is about to turn from its evil path, and there is every reason to believe it will continue to [437] follow it until the day of final catastrophe. This was already seen in France with the old aristocracy. Even on the very eve of the Revolution, they besieged poor Louis XVI and begged him for money [59]. Today, in that country, socialism is spreading—and protectionism is rampant. In Italy, under Depretis, robbery and looting [60] were systematically orchestrated. From voter to elected official, everyone was buying and selling themselves. The tightening of protectionism in 1887 was a means of auctioning off and selling to the highest bidder the right to impose private taxes on citizens; others got to exploit railroads, banks, steelworks, the merchant marine. The entire ruling class crowded around the government, clamoring for at least a bone to gnaw on. At that time, the evil seed was sown that bore fruit in tears and blood in May 1898, and which may bear even more bitter fruit in the future. To the ruling class’s illicit appropriations corresponded the violence of the mob, repressed, not extinguished, by unjust repression. Unjust, I say, because it was not aimed at protecting order and [438] property, but at defending privilege, perpetuating robbery, and making possible such scandalous events as the Notarbartolo trial.

Let the reader note that when we speak of the waning strength of the ruling class, we do not in the least mean a waning of violence; on the contrary, it often happens that the weak are precisely the most violent. No one is more cruel and violent than the coward. Strength and violence [61] are entirely different things. Trajan was strong and not violent; Nero was violent and not strong.

If, as seems likely, the contrast between ever-growing misdeeds and ever-diminishing spirit, courage, and strength continues to sharpen, the end can only be a violent catastrophe that will restore the equilibrium so gravely disturbed.

The rise of a new aristocracy.↩

It is an illusion to believe that facing the ruling class today is the people. What stands against it, and this is something quite different, is a new and future aristocracy that relies on the people; and indeed, a few faint signs of tension already appear between this new aristocracy and the rest of the people, making it foreseeable that, as time goes on, we will witness events similar to those seen in Rome during the conflict between the aristocracy of the plebs and the rest, and in the Italian republics between the greater guilds and the lesser. [62] These latter conflicts resemble, at least in part, those now observed in England between the old Trade Unions and the new ones.

Everywhere, workers who hold lucrative trades try to exclude the rest of the population from them, strictly limiting the number of those allowed to learn the craft. Glassmakers, typographers, and workers in other such trades form closed castes [63]. Many strikes originate from the fact that unionized workers reject non-unionized ones. In short, we see the amorphous mass splitting into distinct layers, the upper ones forming the new aristocracy.

It is notable that, so far, the political leaders of this new aristocracy are almost all bourgeois, that is, taken from the old aristocracy, which has indeed decayed in character but not in intelligence. Also contributing to this is the bad behavior of our bourgeoisie, which drives the best part of itself into the ranks of the opposition, whatever that opposition may be, thus further weakening the ruling class, which bleeds out and loses its most [439] capable, moral, and honest men. When, as happens in Italy, an honest man is faced with the dilemma of either approving outright crimes, such as acts of malfeasance of the banks and the deeds revealed in the Notarbartolo trial, or siding with the socialists, he is driven irresistibly to the latter.

It seems likely that the current ratio between bourgeois and working-class leaders of the new aristocracy will change, and that the number of workers will increase, this is because the working class [64] is becoming ever more active, educated, and strong.

Already, by the early years of the 19th century, the present evolution could be foreseen. It is a most certain law for both living organisms and social organisms that there is a close relationship between the organs of nutrition and the general shape of the body [65]. No one will believe that a carnivore and a herbivore can have entirely similar forms, nor can one believe that warlike societies and industrial societies [66] should have the same social structures. Our societies are certainly much more industrial and less warlike than those of the previous century, and therefore their structure had to change. Where industry flourishes, the working class must, sooner or later, acquire great power. Just observe what happens in countries where political elections are held: if a city becomes industrial, it is almost certain to send socialist or at least radical deputies to parliament. In Italy, Milan, which once belonged to the “consorti”, and Turin, which was monarchist, now elect socialists, republicans, radicals, because industry has grown enormously in those cities. Florence, where it has grown much less, remains more faithful to the moderate party.

This general movement has been so often noted that it is unnecessary to dwell on it further; but another movement, which is also of great importance, has only recently been studied. I refer to the movement by which a portion of the working class begins to earn high wages, and thereby constitutes the first nucleus of the new aristocracy.

The principal origin of this phenomenon must be sought in the enormous increase in savings and capital. After 1870, there were no more great European wars that caused grave destruction of savings, and though its growth was hindered by [440] the waste brought on by state socialism, protectionism, and other acts of malfeasance by the ruling class, these causes could not prevent a substantial increase in the total amount. Therefore, as the ratio between capital and labor shifted, the former became less valuable, the latter more valuable. Wherever technically possible, machines replace human physical strength, and this can be done economically precisely because capital is not lacking among civilized people. Among others, the transformation, though technically possible, is often not economically feasible, and human labor plays a greater role in physical labour. Where capital is abundant, men are pushed toward the types of labor in which machines cannot compete with them, that is, work that requires sense and intelligence. Moreover, there is an incentive to be rigorously selective and to offer high wages to obtain men of uncommon intellectual strength to operate the machines. For a ditch-digger, two strong arms are sufficient, and if there is a Hercules as strong as two average men, he can be paid double, but not more, since the work could just as well be done by two others. But to operate a locomotive, one needs a man with intelligence and judgment, and if he were slightly deficient in those, one could not remedy the situation by placing two engineers on the locomotive instead of one. Two, three, or even four mediocre machinists do not perform the work of a single skilled and intelligent one. Ten ignorant chemists are worth nothing compared to a single good one in a chemical plant. Here then is a most powerful force, operating constantly, dividing workers into various classes, assigning great advantages to the upper ones, and thereby becoming a principal cause in the formation of a new aristocracy.

The state socialists, who want to squander capital, pay no attention to this and do not realize that they are, unwittingly, helping the old aristocracy by obstructing the rise of the new one, which takes firm shape only where capital is abundant. The Marxists have a truer understanding of the phenomenon, and if not scientifically, at least instinctively, they have grasped that their victory can only occur if it is prepared by the abundance of capital, or, as they say, socialist evolution must pass through a “capitalist” phase.

[441]

Another rigorous selection, which also contributes to the formation of the new aristocracy, is carried out by workers’ unions and syndicates. This phenomenon can be considered a consequence of the former, since those unions and syndicates are only possible and thrive where the abundance of capital has allowed large industry to arise and prosper. In the beginning, there is always the abundance of savings and capital. However, let us not forget that, while this appears to be and indeed is in part a cause of the phenomenon, it is also, in part, an effect, since the development of industry and the formation of the new working-class aristocracy [67] help to increase the total savings and capital.

Paul de Rousiers has admirably noted the characteristics of the evolution of workers in England, and if these are carefully studied, it becomes clear that they are also those of the formation of the new aristocracy. Speaking of the leaders of the Trade Unions, he says: “The first quality one notices in them is a practical, clear, and precise mind, a sense of what is possible, firm good sense leading to effective effort” [68]. Exactly the qualities that are lacking in the dying old aristocracy.

“Even those who believe in the necessity of a profound upheaval in society and are drawn to the most advanced socialist theories retain in their minds an ideal dream, but apply themselves in practice to obtaining specific results… Moreover, many of them confine themselves entirely to the pursuit of advantages that in no way require a remaking of social institutions.”

They speak as strong men and do not possess the flabby humanitarian sentiments of our bourgeoisie; they say that one cannot

“improve the condition of the weak unless they themselves struggle against their own weakness… a vigorous conscience is needed, a virile sense of their moral responsibility… Practical spirit, moral elevation, intellectual culture—these are the three main qualities that ensure the success of the trade union leaders” [69].

Are these not precisely the qualities that distinguish the aristocracy (understood etymologically as “the best”) from the rest of men? [70]

After the generals come the captains, the sergeants, the soldiers, and all are men who have been selected. [71] Strictly speaking, [442] there is never just one aristocratic class [72], there are various stratified classes that constitute the aristocracy. [73]

“One must go down to the ordinary personnel, to the simple workers, to see the profound causes to which a union owes its success. It is above all their regularity in paying weekly dues that produces financial prosperity, the indispensable material foundation. The workers who join unions in England make a serious commitment and fulfill it with punctuality. After a few weeks, the delinquent member is simply struck from the rolls—unless, of course, he is receiving aid due to unemployment, accident, illness, etc.” And where does he go? He falls into a new proletariat, now forming alongside the new aristocracy, and it is there that the children of today’s bourgeoisie will likely end up, once they have been plundered by the new aristocracy. “I insist on this material fact of the regularity of dues payments,” says de Rousiers again, “because in addition to the financial power it ensures the unions, it marks the quality of the men who compose them. We will often have occasion to observe this: union personnel is the result of selection: The best men belong to the Union. These men, voluntarily grouped for a goal they understand… are the true basis of success” [74]. How else can one describe the formation of an aristocracy?

Italian socialists have often said that where their doctrine spreads, workers become more moral, more honest, less violent, they no longer beat their wives, otherwise they are excluded; they educate themselves instead of getting drunk at taverns. All this is true, except that, for the most part, they do not become such; rather, they are selected that way, and that is quite a different matter. No one denies that a man can change his habits, but by now, everyone knows that is the exception. The rule is that, while a species can slowly, very slowly, change, the individual changes very little. To have a good mathematician, one must choose him; you can’t really turn just any fool into one with a good education. Who is capable of turning a cowardly man into a courageous one, a promiscuous woman into a chaste matron, a careless man into a prudent one?

[443]

This is not to say that socialists do not increase the number of good and virtuous workers; they do increase that number because they provide those workers who already are such with the means to emerge and prove themselves. Let us even grant, being very generous, that they radically transform a few: still, a residue remains of people lacking in character, honesty, morality, and intelligence, and this group will form the new proletariat.

Someone I know who edits a newspaper in France and is fiercely opposed to workers’ unions told me he was about to resign himself to negotiating with the typographers’ union for his paper “because the Saracens were just too undisciplined and utterly unreliable.” Here, then, is the same cause that excludes the Saracens, whether voluntarily or not, from the union, it excludes them from work as well, removes them from the aristocracy of their class, and pushes them back into the proletariat.

These forms of selection will become ever more widespread, because their causes, namely, the increase in capital and industrial transformation, are growing increasingly powerful.

From another angle, the persecutions by Bismarck in Germany and those by the bourgeois government in Italy have also contributed to the selection of the new aristocracy. Thanks to those persecutions, many men of doubtful loyalty and weak character were eliminated, and political opportunists held back. These latter, by contrast, are already entering the socialist ranks in large numbers in France, where socialism shares in the government. Sooner or later that harm, which always accompanies victory, will afflict the new aristocracy in other countries as well. But for them, it is better that it come late and after the aristocracy has been strongly established, rather than early, while it is still being formed and is yet weak.

The rise of the new aristocracy also shows itself in the facts we noted earlier regarding the religious crisis. A part of the socialists has gone into government in France; that part which remained outside, left feeling hungry (for power), and which begins the new proletariat, now cries out, protests, and passes motions against Millerand and his friends, who laugh at such censure. If Naumann’s boldest proposal were to become reality, a new aristocracy would suddenly arise, would rally around its Constantine, and would take to slashing and [444] shooting the new proletarians who continue to take the old humanitarian speeches seriously [75].

In their congresses, socialists expel anarchists and other dissenters or heretics by force, in London even with the help of bourgeois policemen, and rightly so; they cannot do otherwise, because no system can endure without the use of force. Only those poor humanitarian bourgeois dream of a government made of milk and honey, and think that police and soldiers should let themselves be stoned indefinitely, and wait until some of them are killed before using their weapons. One may be sure that the public force of the future aristocracy will not be so patient, for the principles of those who command will be those of vigorous young men, not of senile old ones.

Let us turn our attention to countries further along the path of democracy and socialism, France, for example, and we will immediately see that the outcome of the battle between the new and the old aristocracy cannot be in doubt, for the new one is full of vigor and strength, while the old is weakened. The new, bold and courageous one, proclaims “class struggle”; the old one plays the child, praising “solidarity,” bowing its head under the blows it receives, and saying thank you instead of striking back.

Look at the press. The rising aristocracy has newspapers that defend its honest and general interests; to support them, people who can barely feed themselves deprive themselves of bread. The bourgeoisie has neither known nor wished to make the financial sacrifices necessary [445] to maintain such a newspaper. For example, few bourgeois newspapers can compare with Avanti!. The bourgeoisie does pay for many newspapers, far too many, but they are maintained for neither honest nor general interests. They are funded to earn money through the Panama Canal affair, railway deals, steelworks, shipping subsidies, protective tariffs; they are backed by corrupt contractors who plunder the public treasury, by vainly ambitious men who are or want to be senators, deputies, or even just municipal councilors. In short, they serve particular and less-than-honest interests.

Look at the strikes. Workers remain loyal to their comrades, endure grim poverty and hunger, refusing to return to work unless all their companions are readmitted, and only when all resistance is impossible do they concede defeat. Employers, on the other hand, usually show no loyalty to the workers they have brought in to replace the strikers; they sacrifice them without scruple, without the slightest shame. Among countless examples, it suffices to recall that of the master plasterers of London, who last year, after reestablishing an agreement with their workers, abandoned the Italian workers they had brought in.

Look at the deputies in certain countries. In Italy, you find socialist deputies whose lives are dignified and utterly honest, compare them to the political hacks who besiege ministries seeking favors and who, if they saw a profit in it, would sell Christ for thirty pieces of silver every day.

Look at the vigorous discipline of the new aristocracy. If one of its members is found guilty, he is expelled immediately. The bourgeoisie, on the other hand, believes it is acting wisely by turning a blind eye to the vilest misdeeds among its own. In Italy, the men who plundered the banks, those who protected the murderers of Notarbartolo, suffered no punishment at all; quite the contrary, they remain in high places, and everyone bows to them.

De Rousiers recounts, regarding the Union of Plaster Workers:

“The severity of the rules is applied to late-payers. I personally saw an example of this one day when I was accompanying the union’s secretary, Mr. D., on his site visits. We were entering one of those rows of houses hastily built by jerry-builders, when we came across a worker who seemed visibly troubled by my companion’s arrival. He was a plasterer, working on the finish of a wall. ‘Well,’[446] said Mr. D. to him, ‘are you ready to do what you promised me last Saturday?’ — ‘No,’ replied the poor fellow, lowering his head sadly. — ‘I warned you,’ continued Mr. D., ‘so if anything unpleasant happens to you today, you acknowledge that you alone are responsible, that the fault lies entirely with you?’ — ‘Yes.’ — And without any regard for his misfortune, Mr. D. said to me: ‘Here is one of those poor souls who are not capable of taking care of themselves.’”

Fortunately, the employer arrived. He took five shillings from his pocket and gave them to the plasterer as an advance on his wages. The man then handed them to Mr. D. as a payment toward his overdue dues and was allowed to continue his work. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have hesitated to suspend him,” Mr. D. told me [76].

If that secretary, paid by the Trade Union to enforce its rules, had been the judge of Château-Thierry, paid by a bourgeois government to apply the law, he would not have shown such rigor and would have replaced it with some fine rhetorical passage about the poverty of that poor devil. If the union’s members resembled our bourgeoisie, instead of supporting their secretary, some would make lofty ethical speeches, invoke “solidarity” with those who fail to pay what they owe, and render the regulations void with foolish and inconclusive talk; others would do even worse, they would ask the secretary not to look after the honest and general interests of the Union, but after the dishonest and private interests of one of its members. In that case, the secretary, instead of the speech just cited, would have told the member late in paying his dues: “At the next elections, vote for Damiani, who is Crispi (as one Italian general put it); if so, do as you please—otherwise, pay up.”

If someone were to say to you: “Here are two armies, A and B, facing each other. In A, there is no discipline at all, little courage, no vigor, no faith in their own flag. These people do not even dare to clearly state that they are fighting B, but pretend to be at peace while they are at war; they raise subscriptions to provide weapons for B and do not want to spend a penny for their own. Some babble on, lost in idle talk, others are looking out for themselves, trying to snatch [447] something for their own gain. The best soldiers of A desert their camp and go over to that of B. On the other hand, the men in B know what they want and they want it strongly, they maintain discipline, have faith in their own flag, hold it high, and state clearly that they want to defeat army A, scatter it, destroy it. They are united in a bundle, [77] and each is ready for any sacrifice for their comrades and their flag. Never would they dream of helping the enemy; they procure arms for themselves, not for others. Their numbers are ever growing.” And if one were then asked: “Whom do you believe will be victorious?”, would you have any doubt in your answer?

Our bourgeoisie devotes effort and money only to aiding the enemy. A vast number of societies have arisen to help the vicious, the incapable, the degenerate, and among so many societies, the bourgeois have not had the spirit to form even one, just one, to defend their own rights. But do they even have rights? It seems not, because they are ashamed to speak of them; it is the property owners themselves who deny the right to property and who donate money to the Università popolari (People’s Universities) where they teach that they ought to be plundered of everything. From a certain point of view, one might say they truly have no rights, since they do not know how to defend them.

The new aristocracy is now flexible and open to all, but after victory it will follow the fate of all others, it will become more rigid and more closed. Note that Buddhism, which proclaimed the equality of all men, gave rise to the theocracy of Tibet, and that the religion of Christ, seemingly made for the poor and humble, produced the Roman theocracy. This in turn was opposed by a new aristocracy at the time of the Reformation, but because it had not yet fully decayed, it suffered only a partial defeat. The fall of the old aristocracy and the rise of its abuses at the time of the Reformation is clearly seen in the emergence of the cavalieri briganti (robber knights); Sickingen and Hutten are two types of this revolutionary knighthood. As usual, the new aristocracy leaned on the “poor” and the “humble”; as usual, these believed the promises made to them; as usual, they were deceived and bore a heavier yoke than before [78] . Similarly, the Revolution of 1789 gave rise to [448] the Jacobin oligarchy and ended in imperial despotism [79]. This has always happened, and there is no reason to believe that the usual course of events will now change. Many centuries have passed since the Sibylline Songs promised men that “there will be no more poor, nor more rich, no more tyrants, no more slaves, nor any greater or lesser person, no more kings, nor leaders, everything will be shared” [80] ; and still the wretched await the fulfillment of those promises. It seems likely that the new sweeping promises will have no different end, and that the wait will be just as short. After victory, the new aristocracy may make some concessions in form and in speech to the new proletarians, that is, to the weak, the imprudent, the incapable, but in substance, these will likely bear a yoke heavier than the one they now endure. The new masters, at least for a time, will not have the senile weaknesses of our bourgeoisie.

Le Bon [81] says: “The current worker finds himself in a phase he will never see again, in which he can dictate the law and bleed the goose that lays the golden eggs with impunity.” This is not true in general, just consider, for example, Russia and Italy, but it is true for some people further along the path of state socialism. It is curious to note how in certain places where the progressive tax exists, it has been pushed, through repeated attempts, to the limit where it yields the greatest benefit to the ruling class. Experience taught the Roman masters that it was profitable to allow the slave a peculium (personal savings), since this [449] spurred him to work and made him more productive for the master. Similarly, experience has taught certain democratic governments that to plunder the contractor and the capitalist entirely is essentially to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. Therefore, they allow them a certain peculium and are content to take all they can without discouraging them from using their intellect and wealth for economic production. In this way, they exploit them in the most effective manner, just like the slaveowner did. It is not certain that the new aristocracy will have the same patience in letting itself be plundered as the current one; thus, when restricted to those cases, Le Bon’s observation hits the mark.

This author also makes an observation about standing armies which, likewise, is only partly true. He believes that standing armies, in which all citizens are incorporated, will eventually become socialist war machines: “There lies the danger which governments do not yet see, and which it would therefore be quite useless to insist upon.” And again: “The evolution of things has undermined the foundations of the old edifice. The army, last pillar of this edifice, the only one still capable of supporting it, is disintegrating day by day” [82]. This may be true for France, but it is not true for Germany. Nothing leads us to foresee that the German army is disintegrating; on the contrary, from all we know, it, with its officers drawn almost exclusively from the upper classes, appears untouchable, and it seems highly probable that the only path by which socialism may achieve victory in Germany is the one indicated by Naumann.

However, regarding forms, we must not forget how little our scant scientific knowledge permits us to predict, and we can scarcely have any clear idea even of the substance of the phenomenon.

The subjective phenomenon.↩

The religious crisis is not too distorted in the mind, and thus the subjective phenomenon does not deviate much from the real one, except perhaps in its secondary manifestations. Catholics, Protestants, and socialists all feel themselves more or less carried along by the religious wave. The socialists, it is true, emphasize greatly the scientific aspect of their religion, but so do some Protestant sects. [450] It is curious to observe how among these sects, there are some that had almost reached pure rationalism some time ago. For them, Jesus Christ is no longer a divine being, but the best of men; miracles are explained by natural laws. This movement was already occurring when we were in the declining period of religious faith; the years around 1860 belong to that period. When the ascending period returned, those sects did not retrace their earlier steps, but returned to religion by another route, that is, they now have a social religion, which, though they dislike hearing it, is nothing other than socialism. For them, the supernatural disappears entirely from Christ’s work, and only that part remains which seeks to exalt the poor and which may be called social.

It seems likely that these sects will end up disappearing, like small streams lost in the great river of socialism, because in the end their doctrines satisfy no human need. Those, and they are many, who desire the supernatural go toward doctrines that preserve Christ’s divine nature; those who are not believers go directly to socialism and do not stop halfway. In fact, already now these sects are an army of captains without soldiers; they are not understood or well-liked by the people.

For many bourgeois, the Christian religious wave that carries them appears as a means to combat socialism. That is, among the many manifestations of the religious feeling, they choose, or rather believe they are choosing, the one least contrary to their interests. That motive for the choice has certainly had some effect, but far less than one might think. Sometimes it existed a priori, but more often it is found a posteriori to justify the religious movement. In any case, if it was a strategic plan, it did not produce the desired effect. The ruling classes [83] wished to use the old religious forms to keep the people in subjection; and what happened instead is that the people, increasingly, detach themselves from those forms and turn toward new ones, primarily the socialist one; the bourgeoisie’s action has been effective only upon the bourgeoisie itself. Imagine a general who seeks to hypnotize enemy soldiers to defeat them more easily: he tries hard, but hypnotizes none of the enemy and instead hypnotizes his own troops, thus making them an easy prey for the adversary. Such has been precisely, inasmuch as it was deliberate, the effect of the [451] bourgeoisie’s actions, not only regarding the old forms of religion, but also the new ones [84].

At the Société d’économie politique in Paris, it was noted that in France, the efforts of the abstainers from alcohol have had little or no effect on the people and have operated only on the well-to-do classes. [85] Abuse continues as before; only moderate and healthy use has somewhat decreased. All that asceticism of the upper classes will have the sole effect of making them a bit more anemic, a bit more cowardly, a bit less capable of defending themselves. What do you expect from men who do not eat meat, do not drink wine, and modestly lower their eyes when they see a beautiful woman? These people can go be monks in the Thebaid, but not fight and win the battles of life.

Subjectively, for many bourgeois, socialist undertakings take the form of efforts aimed at securing “social peace,” “social good,” “social justice,” and other such “social” things. Socialism has grown, has acquired and continues to acquire strength, almost exclusively through the efforts and labor of the bourgeois. In watching these people struggle to carry out something that can only lead to their ruin and destruction, one is reminded of Dante’s description of Filippo Argenti:

Lo fiorentino spirito bizzarroIn sé medesimo si volgea coi denti.

(The raging Florentine spirit
Turned his teeth against himself.)

If these bourgeois knew where their work would lead, they would be heroes and martyrs, but since they work toward their own ruin without knowing it, they are simply fools.

In the secondary manifestations of religious sentiment, people now tend to believe they are moved exclusively by scientific reasoning, and thus in such cases the real phenomenon is highly distorted subjectively.

To properly understand the psychological state of such individuals, it’s useful to consider what happens in economic crises. In the ascending period, every argument aimed at showing that a business will be profitable is welcomed favorably; in the descending period [452] it is absolutely rejected. Financiers, who know this well, express it by saying the market is well or badly disposed. A man who refuses to subscribe to certain shares in a descending period believes he is guided purely by reason and does not realize that he is unknowingly yielding to the many small impressions he receives daily from economic facts. Then, in the ascending period, when he subscribes to those same shares or similar ones, which have no reasonably better prospect of success, again he will believe he is acting on reason, unaware that his shift from distrust to trust is driven by feelings triggered by the environment around him.

At the stock exchange, it is well known that the general public buys only during the rising period and sells during the falling period; financiers, who, through greater experience in such dealings, rely more on reason, though they too sometimes are swept up by sentiment, do the opposite, and that is the principal source of their gains. During the rise, the weakest arguments urging that prices will continue to climb are immediately persuasive, and if you tell someone that prices cannot keep rising forever, you can be sure you will not be heard. During the decline, it is arguments suggesting that everything is going badly and that stock prices must plummet that persuade. Any reasoning aimed at encouraging those fearful souls is in vain.

Similar things occur in moral and religious crises. A fanatical enemy of alcohol truly believes he is guided by scientific reasoning; he does not notice that, if he heard today those same arguments, so persuasive to him, during a time of general skepticism, they would be like dead embers and he would pay them no attention.

Many causes underlie these facts: imitation certainly plays a large role, but there are also other subjective and objective causes. This is not the place to study the subject; it is enough for us to highlight these facts, whatever their causes may be.

The fall of the current aristocracy and the rise of the new one appear very differently in the human mind and understanding than they do in reality; in this case, the subjective phenomenon diverges greatly from the objective one.

[453]

We have already noted some of these differences. Many “humanitarians” are entirely in good faith, imagining themselves to be sacrificing for the sake of strengthening altruistic sentiments, unaware that they are only advancing the victory of the egoism of the new aristocracy. It is a contest between the egoism of A and that of B; why is favoring one over the other called altruism? But people say: “If A were altruistic, he would give something to B.” Certainly, but the statement could be reversed; and if B were also altruistic, he would refuse A’s sacrifice. Many hygienists are thoroughly convinced of their theories and believe they are working solely for the good of the human race. Many “ethicists” believe they are acting on behalf of some moral abstraction and have not the slightest suspicion that they are betraying their class and favoring the victory of a new aristocracy, which, after achieving power, will be no more moral than the present one.

The contrast between the subjective and objective phenomena is clearly visible in France in the case of the Dreyfus affair. Anyone who recounts only the history of the subjective phenomenon, that is, the ideas as they are typically expressed, will say that an innocent man having been unjustly condemned, a fierce battle arose for justice, offended by anti-Semitic and “nationalist” prejudice. But whoever believes that there is nothing more to those words, and that the objective phenomenon differed little or not at all from what was just described, might also believe that the battles which bloodied the Byzantine Empire over the "ὁμοούσιος" (homoousios = being of one substance) and "ὁμοιούσιος" (homoiousios = being of like substance) had as their sole cause a theological subtlety and concealed no political rivalry.

The truth is quite different. The Dreyfus affair is a simple episode in the conflict between the current and future aristocracy. A part, though not a large one, of the present aristocracy had attempted, especially between 1850 and 1870, to rely on liberty, reason, and good sense. Now it has reconsidered and realized that men are governed by sentiment, not reason; the only possible choice, then, is of the kind of sentiments, or better yet, the kind of religion. That minority of the bourgeoisie has thus drawn near once again to the majority, which, always, whether knowingly or not, held similar views.

What can we use to oppose the invading socialist religion? The upper class in France had little to choose from. It sought to give renewed [454] vigor to old religious forms, especially Catholicism; it attempted to turn certain socialist hatreds to its own benefit, and from this was born antisemitism; finally, it found a new religion of its own in “nationalism.” This latter had the great advantage of being able to seduce the army. Note well that I am not saying in the least that such a plan was premeditated and then carried out deliberately: rather, the facts show that most of those following this path are compelled by the circumstances they find themselves in and are unaware of it. Perhaps a few more perceptive and cunning leaders know where the move leads, but they are careful not to mention it, so as not to weaken the blind faith of their followers.

When the Dreyfus affair erupted, the nationalists immediately understood the advantage they could draw from it; it was an excellent opportunity to befriend the army and thus wield force. Napoleon I, at Saint Helena, after having Racine’s Britannicus read to him, wisely observed, “that it was always by wounding the pride of princes that one most influenced their decisions.” The “nationalists,” making the wounded pride of the military leadership their own cause, were thus employing a good tactic. In essence, their plan was not a bad one, and if the death of Félix Faure had not occurred, it might well have succeeded.

The objective phenomenon is therefore simply that of the struggle between the two aforementioned aristocracies, and indeed the Dreyfus affair is over or nearly so, but this does not in the least quieten that conflict. Today, as we write, the socialists are winning thanks to the work of the Waldeck-Rousseau ministry, but no one can know what tomorrow will bring. All the twists and turns of the battle are absolutely unpredictable. Waldeck-Rousseau, in regard to the social class to which he belongs, plays precisely the same role that Lafayette once played in regard to his own. Such unconscious allies are extremely valuable to new aristocracies aiming to overthrow the old.

On June 15, 1900, there was an inquiry in the French Chamber concerning certain events that occurred during the strike at Chalon-sur-Saône. The ministry, which had repressed some violence, a bit late, to be sure, accepted a resolution that was partly directed against the agents of public order and read: "The Chamber, relying [455] on the government to pursue all responsibilities that may be established by judicial inquiry, proceeds to the order of the day."

This resolution was approved along with an amendment by Deputy Massabuau, which stated: "The Chamber ... and condemning the collectivist doctrines by which the workers are deceived, proceeds to the order of the day." As a result, several conservative deputies voted against the ministry, therefore, apparently, against the maintenance of order, and several socialist-collectivist deputies voted in favor of the ministry, therefore, apparently, against collectivism. In substance, both sides were absolutely right: the Waldeck-Rousseau ministry was effectively working to ensure the coming victory of the socialists. Worth noting are the abstentions of the heads of large industries: A. Reille, de Solage, Schneider. This confirms what we have said about the lack of courage in the present aristocracy. These men will be the first victims of socialism and already suffer serious offenses, yet they do not dare speak plainly for fear of losing the government's favor, by which they make up, from another angle, for the losses they have so far suffered at the hands of the socialists. If in Italy there were a government that leaned even slightly toward socialism, those who now fiercely oppose the socialists would be seen voting in its favor, those who benefit from shipping subsidies, protective tariffs, etc. These fine fellows are like sunflowers and always turn toward the side where they hope to profit.

The divergence between the subjective phenomenon and the objective one produces many illusions. Thus, many imagine they can effectively combat socialism by attacking Marx’s theories, just as others once believed they could effectively combat Christianity by pointing out the scientific errors in the Bible. By now, few educated people deny those errors; and yet, what harm has Christianity suffered from them? None at all; it is more vigorous than before. Marx's theory of value doesn’t hold; after various subtle interpretations have been attempted, we now see some of the most educated Marxists going so far as to say that Marx never intended to create a theory of value. All of this has done little or nothing to harm socialist faith. It is not Marx’s book that created the socialists, it is the socialists who gave fame to Marx’s book. It was not the works of [456] Voltaire that caused the disbelief of men at the end of the eighteenth century; it was that disbelief that gave credit to the writings of Voltaire. This should be understood only as a description of the main part of the phenomenon, since we must also acknowledge that form matters to some extent, and Voltaire and the encyclopedists, by giving elegant form to the sentiments already present in the French upper class, helped to revitalize that sentiment. A similar observation must be made about Marx.

At present, the enervation of the upper classes is certainly a primary cause of the humanitarian current, and perhaps also of the religious one; but in turn, these humanitarian sentiments act as a cause of even greater weakness and enfeeblement. In contrast, the work of revolutionary socialists is suited to restoring some vigor to those exhausted bodies. For the French bourgeoisie, a ministry led by Jules Guesde would be much less dangerous than one led by Waldeck-Rousseau. In Germany, Christian socialism is an excellent novitiate for popular socialism. In general, the present aristocracy has no worse enemies, and the future aristocracy no better friends, than that whole swarm of humanitarians, sentimentalists, and ethicists.

There always remains one unknown element in future social changes, and that is the changes that could be produced by long wars between civilized nations. These would likely have the effect of placing some European nation under military dictatorship. But what the relationship between such dictatorships and the new aristocracy might be, we do not know. Those who judge based solely on the subjective phenomenon will be convinced that military dictatorship can only benefit the present aristocracy, but those who primarily consider the objective phenomenon will not accept such a hypothesis without serious doubt.

It is very difficult to discuss all of this today with any solid basis. It is enough for us to perceive, even if only through the fog, the grand phenomenon of the decline of one aristocracy and the rise of another, which, little or not at all perceived in its objective form, is unfolding before our eyes; and let us refrain from futile attempts to tear away the veil that still partly shrouds the future.

VILFREDO PARETO

Professor of Political Economy at the University of Lausanne.

Endnotes

[1] (Note by the translator) Pareto probably has in mind his long work Trattato di Sociologia Generale which appeared in Italian in two volumes in 1916, and a revised and longer version in French as Traité de sociologie générale between 1917-19.

[2] It does not even need to be modern; it is enough that modern beliefs are involved. Thus, Boissier, discussing Constantine's conversion, dares to write: “Thus this first part of Eusebius’ account is very plausible… As for the other, that is, the apparition and the dream, I will say nothing; these miraculous incidents escape criticism and are not within the proper domain of history. Everyone may believe as they wish, either that the facts reported by Eusebius are true, and then we are dealing with real miracles…” (La fin du paganisme, I, p. 39). Wonderful, indeed! So, when an author recounts fairy tales or miracles, the historian must respectfully remain silent because “such incidents escape criticism and are not within the proper domain of history”!

But if we are not allowed to doubt the miraculous vision Constantine saw, why should it be permissible to doubt that when the Greek ships were retreating at Salamis, a female phantom appeared and cried: “ὦ δαιμόνιοι, μέχρι κόσου ἔτι πρύμνην ἀνακρούεσθε;” – “Fools! how much longer will you keep backing your ships?” For my part, I have no more reason to believe Eusebius than Herodotus; in fact, the very criticism Boissier claims has no place here leads me to believe that, in general, the former tells much taller tales than the latter.

[3] (Note by the translator) Vilfredo Pareto, Cours d’économie politique. Professé à l’Université de Lausanne (Lausanne: F. Rouge; Paris: Pichon, 1896-97). 2 vols.

[4] For literature, they were excellently noted by Prof. G. Renard, La méthode scientifique de l'histoire littéraire, Paris, 1900.

[5] Friedlaender, Civilisation et mœurs romaines, French trans. by Vogel, IV, p. 167: “Just as the wave of anti-Christian tendencies of the last century quickly receded after reaching its peak and was followed by a powerful countercurrent, which also irresistibly carried along a large part of educated society, so too in the Greco-Roman world, after the prevailing tendencies in first-century literature, we see a strong reaction toward positive faith taking over and also seizing those same circles, as faith degenerated, in many ways, into crude superstition, thirst for miracles, pietism, and mysticism.”

[6] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "le classi colte" (the cultured or educated classes).

[7] Also Duruy, Histoire des romains, V, p. 702: “When one writes the history of Christianity, one sees only it and pays no attention to the great work of renewal that was taking place within pagan society.”

[8] L'homme américain, I.

[9] La magie et l'astrologie, p. 153.

[10] Loc. cit., p. 158.

[11] Lettres persanes, CXXXIV.

[12] (Note by the translator) The translation of this essay by Zetterberg in 1968 translates the key term "aristocrazia" as "elite". See Vifredo Pareto, The Rise and Fall of the Elites: An Application of Theoretical Sociology. Introduction by Hans L. Zetterberg (Totowa, New jersey: The Bedminster Press, 1968).

[13] (Note by the translator) Pareto will give another definition on p. 441 - "l'aristocrazia (intesa nel senso etimologico cioè: dei migliori)" (the aristocracy (understood etymologically as “the best”)).

[14] Flegrea, April 20, 1900: Il secolo ventismo seconde un individualismo.

[15] Journal des Économistes, May 1900.

[16] In 1759, d'Argenson wrote: “A philosophical wind is blowing our way, one of free and anti-monarchical government; it is spreading in people's minds, and it may be that this government is already established in thought, awaiting only the first opportunity to be executed. Perhaps the revolution will happen with fewer conflicts than expected; perhaps it will come by acclamation.”

[17] Speaking of the Irish, whom he takes as a parallel to the condition of ancient Romans, Niebuhr says—and it holds true for all times and places: “The sufferings and despair of the poor are a most powerful weapon in the hands of their leaders, whose complaints would be indifferent to the former if the law did not unite them into a single body.”

[18] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "le classi elevate" (the upper classes). He also sues the term "classi superiori" (the superior or upper classes).

[19] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "le classi inferiori" (the lower classes).

[20] (Note by the translator) Here Pareto introduces three key concepts in his theory: that in every historical period there is a "class" and an "aristocracy" drawn from that class which is "the ruling class";that these classes are either "declining" (falling) or "rising" and that the later will eventually replace the former in controlling the state; and that each class justifies its rule with an ideology (or "religion") which is also "rising" or "falling". On the part played by ideology or "religion"; Pareto discusses the historical role religion had in defending the status quo (in the Roman world and later in the Christian world), and the periodic crises which afflicted religious belief, and the impact these crises had of the fortunes of the "falling" and "rising" classes. He also notes the similarities between religious belief and religious organizations and that of political beliefs and political organizations, such as socialism and nationalism in his own day.

[21] (Note by the translator) Concerning his idea of "class" and "aristocracy", he believed that all societies are controlled by an "aristocracy" which is made up of different classes at different historical periods. He discusses several specific classes in this essay, such as: "la classe dominante/dirigente" (the ruling class -11 instances); "classi elevate/superiori" (the upper classes - 8 instances); "la classe operaia" (the working class - 3 instances); "le classi colte" (the educated class - 1 instance); "classi agiate" (the well-to-to, well off classes - 1 instance). He also says without developing it in any detail that "there is never just one aristocratic class, there are various stratified classes ("classi stratificate") that constitute the aristocracy," p. 442. He mentions "una aristocrazia" (74 references) in terms of its age and its rising or falling position within society: this we have "l'antica aristocrazia" (the old aristocracy - 11 references), "la vecchia aristocrazia" (the old or ancient aristocracy - 1 reference), "la presente aristocrazia" ("the current or present aristocracy - 5 instances), "la nuova aristocrazia" (the new aristocracy - 31 instances), "la nascente aristocrazia (the rising or new aristocracy - 1 instance); and "la futura aristocrazia" (the future aristocracy - 2 instances).

[22] (Note by the translator) Concerning his idea of the decline and rise of "class" and "aristocracy, he believed that in all societies over time there is "il decadere dell'antica aristocrazia" (the decline of the old aristocracy) and a corresponding "il sorgere di una nuova aristocrazia (the rise of a new aristocracy). He also talks about the "decline", "rise", and "crisis" of religious and political beliefs which accompany the rise and decline of these classes and aristocracies. Pareto uses two pairings of words to describe this: "decadere" (decline, fall) and "sorgere" (rise); and "decrescente" (falling) and "ascendente" (rising).

[23] Deherme writes frankly in his journal Coopération des idées: “We must adopt the madness of solidarity, just as the martyrs had the madness of Christ.” The strikers of Molinella threw out the portraits of saints and Madonnas and replaced them with those of Marx and Prampolini.

[24] A few random examples:

“Alcohol! Alcohol! We do not wage enough war against you—pitiless war, war to the death. You are hated, you are feared—or so we say—but we hesitate when it comes to eliminating you. And yet you begin by soiling the purest souls, you corrupt the soundest minds, you ensnare those who approach and court you (courting alcohol, what a poetic image), then you devour them. A large portion of our people drags itself along, wheezing, and ends up collapsing, a broken wreck, before the final glass of poison, dying, rotted to the marrow.” (Le Bien Social) The last terms may be a bit crude for such lofty poetic composition.

“Alcohol being the cause of nine-tenths of humanity’s misfortunes (who knows how such statistics were produced), of three-quarters of crimes (a wonderfully precise statistic), alcohol creating an incalculable number of miserable people through poverty, brutalization, disease, and premature senility, alcohol being the evil, the plague par excellence, the cause of family ruin, child withering, the cross borne by women—alcohol being the great cursed thing—it would seem that everyone should rise to fight it. (Doesn’t it sound like a believer talking about heresy?) Yet it is not so, and how many doctors, enemies of this poison, nevertheless unknowingly and stupidly (stupid, stupidly—terms not often used by well-bred French speakers: clearly drinking only water is not enough to acquire linguistic refinement) promote it by prescribing medicinal wines.” (Le Bien Social)

This splendid invective merely aims to criticize the use of quinine wine… and in the end, "nascetur ridiculus mus" (a ridiculous mouse is born).

One society, which includes scientists worthy of all respect, publishes a circular stating: “Alcohol is especially a brain poison… Even small doses indisputably slow down our intellectual processes, as shown by the works of Kræplin, Smith, Fürer, etc.” In fact, Bismarck, who drank a lot of beer, had incredibly slow intellectual operations, understood nothing; likewise, Napoleon I, Cromwell, Caesar, Socrates, Virgil, Horace, etc., were all half-wits. Such, apparently, were most of the great men we admire, since very few are known to have drunk only water. What monsters of intellect must be those who abstain entirely from alcoholic beverages! If those who drink wine haven’t noticed, it may be only due to the slow functioning of their mental processes.

These examples, which could easily be multiplied, were presented to show that the goal is not only to combat abuse—in which we would all agree—but also the most moderate use; and it is in this that we discern the religious and sectarian sentiment.

[25] Renan, Marc-Aurèle, p. 577, discussing the cult of Mithras, one of Christianity’s competitors: “Its chapels closely resembled little churches. It created a bond of brotherhood among initiates. We have said it twenty times: this was the great need of the era. People wanted congregations where they could love, support, and watch over one another—fraternities providing a closed field (for man is not perfect) for all sorts of vain pursuits, for the harmless development of childish synagogue ambitions.” —Just like today. The secretary of a society that, under the pretext of hygiene, promotes some foolish principle thinks himself a great man. There are pastors and parish priests who complain that their flocks are deserting temple or church to attend abstainers from alcohol, ethical, and similar societies' meetings.

[26] Renan, Marc-Aurèle, p. 244: “The so-called chastity of the Encratites was often no more than unconscious self-deception”; p. 245: “Far more provocative and troubling is the tale of Saints Nereus and Achilleus; never has one been more voluptuously chaste, never has marriage been treated with such naive indecency”; p. 246: “Those who fear women are generally those who love them the most. How often one could justly say to the ascetic: Fallit te incautum pietas tua (Your piety deceives you, unwary one).”

[27] Such foolishness can be found among all people. Certain individuals take great pleasure in tormenting themselves and others. Read what Buckle writes about the Scottish Presbyterian clergy, who, incidentally, were as democratic as our modern ascetics: “According to their code, all natural affections, all social pleasures, all entertainments, all cheerful instincts of the human heart were so many sins... It is improper to have the slightest thought for beauty, or rather, there is no real beauty. What is there in the world worth looking at? Nothing but the Scottish Church, the most beautiful and incomparable object in the world” (Today, the Scottish Church has simply been replaced with ‘solidarity’)... “Traveling from one city to another on Sunday was a sin. Visiting a friend on Sunday, watering the garden, getting shaved, was a sin” (Today the law also intervenes: in a small town, a man was tried for drawing water for personal use during worship hours)... “Being poor, dirty, hungry... sighing and lamenting constantly... in short, being perpetually afflicted... was a sign of holiness; the opposite, of impiety.”

And even earlier, the monks had carried this kind of madness to its furthest extremes. As Gibbon aptly put it: “Pleasure and sin were synonymous in monastic language,” and so they are for our modern-day ascetics.

[28] Among countless examples, one will suffice, and occurred while this article was going to press.

The Avanti of July 18, 1900 reports a decision by a local section of the Socialist Party: “The local section of the Socialist Party, in its meeting of the 11th, unanimously expelled the two B. brothers from its ranks. The first for having... sent two dueling challenges... and for insisting on his right, as a socialist, to resolve personal matters ‘chivalrously.’ The second... for declaring complete solidarity with his brother... and for admitting to some comrades his unconditional inclination toward dueling.” The newspaper commented, with good sense: “To expel one brother for siding with the other and for ‘showing a tendency toward dueling’ strikes us as reflecting a mistaken concept of what a party should be... If today you write into the party catechism that a socialist must not duel, tomorrow someone will want to establish that a socialist must be teetotal, the day after that, that a socialist may not marry in church—and so on, until every aspect of individual life is invaded by party legislation. In this way, we believe, parties turn into sects or ecclesiastical orders.”

But the sectarians do not relent. The evolution continues. The Avanti of July 30 reports that the Pisa section decided to expel three “comrades” guilty of publicly protesting the aforementioned decision by the other section. Among those “comrades” was the Avanti’s own correspondent; his work on behalf of the party counted for nothing—he was excommunicated like a common bourgeois. One day, we may indeed have a Holy Inquisition of socialist faith.

[29] What Italian, for example, would not be surprised to hear that a very respectable and highly educated young lady from across the Atlantic, belonging to a high social class, publicly discussed artificial insemination at a conference, saying it was, on one hand, a highly moral act because it removed the material pleasure of the senses from love, and on the other hand, extremely useful because it could greatly improve the human race? And yet the fact is certain.

A highly praised book among certain ascetics and moralists, L’École de la pureté (The School of Purity), which is said to be suitable reading for young girls, certainly aims at a noble goal, but discusses it in a truly peculiar way, difficult to excuse except by saying the end justifies the means.

[30] For the socialist context and France, the phenomenon was well described in the Avanti of March 12, 1900: “French art, which had fought a noble battle for democracy and liberty during the Dreyfus agitation, has not abandoned the field and continues to support the most radical manifestations of contemporary thought. Anatole France and Octave Mirbeau, Maurice Bouchor and Laurent Tailhade, Paul Adam and Camille Mauclair willingly associate their names with those of the most rebellious revolutionary agitators, socialists and anarchists... Even Barrès and Lemaitre, who sided with the decorated falsehood during the Dreyfus campaign, now swoon with sympathy for workers’ claims. The dominant note in contemporary French literature is a heightened anti-bourgeois sentiment.” (I underline this myself, it is quite true. Let the reader note that it is the bourgeoisie who buy those anti-bourgeois books and thus provoke their publication. We shall return to this point later.) “French art not only resolutely enters the social struggle but deliberately defends the humble and the poor. Traditional morality—religious and political—is harshly attacked; all the boldness and restlessness of the emerging crisis find outlet and echo in the most acclaimed writers. In the most youthful and recent French literature there is a breath of the unconscious mission fulfilled by French writers of the 18th century: to agitate dangerous ideas against the established order with the seduction of artistic color... The infernal dance of ideas and images portrayed by Mirbeau gives an instant impression of the inevitability of catastrophe. This world is beyond redemption!”

“… Paul Adam... is also an anarchist and promotes the necessity of a corrective revolution... In his infinite compassion for all the oppressed; alongside a tender and gentle sympathy for all the degradation into which poverty drives a woman who is alone and in need; he has only one outburst of contempt and hatred, and he directs it against the wretch who accepts his fate and stretches out his hand to the rich for anything other than to kill him.” (And while that killing happens, the rich or comfortable bourgeois buys Adam’s books and is therefore the real reason they are printed—and thus, in part, becomes complicit in atrocious crimes.) “But even when we move away from the explicitly rebellious literature, the anti-bourgeois and revolutionary tendency of young literature remains clear. Who has depicted family relations with fiercer irony than Marcel Prévost?... And all this literature is imbued with a violent spirit of contempt for everything traditional, old, or based on authority, grounded in a code, or sanctioned by the police and judiciary.” Here, the author sees only one side of the matter. If we read authors like Brunetière, who wish to return to ancient religious forms, we find equal contempt—but for different targets. The same goes for the “nationalists,” for the anti-Semites, etc. All of them snarl and clash as sectarians always do, in every time and place.

The author adds, and says quite rightly: “This literature is explained by the condition Paris imposes on the writer. Since... the book is a commercial enterprise like any other... In Italy, the profession of writer does not exist; in France, it does.” But he fails to note—an observation of great importance, that the principal consumers of this publisher are precisely the bourgeoisie maligned in the books it publishes.

[31] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "spoliare" (to strip or plunder). We use "plunder" because of Pareto's interest in the work of Frédéric Bastiat who developed a detailed theory and history of "la spoliation" (plunder) in the 1840s.

[32] Sur l'origine du monde, p. 21.

[33] The author’s sophism lies here: It is indeed true that all our theories are hypothetical and that we know nothing absolute. Quite true, therefore, that Newton’s theory is a hypothesis like that of Ptolemy or Hesiod’s theogony; but it does not follow that among various hypotheses, some may not be scientifically preferable to others. “A member asked whether, from the point of view of modern science, it is indifferent to say that one celestial body revolves around another or vice versa. The author of the previous communication responded that as long as one is only concerned with phenomena, their systematic description, or their kinematic explanation, then the matter is indeed indifferent.” Of course—if a man walks along a road, one could, from a kinematic perspective, suppose: 1.) that the houses along the road remain still and the man moves; 2.) that instead the man is stationary and the houses move. This second hypothesis is sometimes accepted by the intoxicated, but no one has yet claimed that a sober man has adopted it. Similarly, if a locomotive travels along a railway track, one may suppose: 1.) that the locomotive moves and the tracks are stationary; 2.) that the locomotive is still and the tracks move. But to suggest that we could equally develop a theory of locomotive motion under either hypothesis is pure mockery.

The author didn’t trouble to explain how Le Verrier would have managed to discover the planet Neptune if he had followed Ptolemy’s hypothesis.

[34] Divinae Institutiones, VII, 19.

[35] Loc. cit., 24.

[36] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "socialismo di Stato" which is a term he use again later, pp. 440, 448.

[37] It is well known that long before Constantine’s time, there were Christians who pined for the Empire. Renan, Marc Aurèle, pp. 282–283: “We have already seen Melito make the strangest overtures to the Empire, in case it wished to become the protector of the truth. In the Apology these overtures are even more pronounced.” Melito is a worthy precursor of Naumann; he tells Marcus Aurelius that the moment when the Christian religion was born was a happy one for the Empire. From that point, indeed, the immense Roman power began, of which Marcus Aurelius and his son are worthy heirs. Further on, Renan (ibid., p. 384) writes: “Extreme deference, almost obsequiousness toward the Empire is the hallmark of Athenagoras, as of all the apologists.” And on p. 618: “The hatred between Christianity and the Empire was the hatred of people who were bound to love each other someday. Under the Severan emperors, the language of the Church remained what it had been under the Antonines: plaintive and tender.” Exactly what we are beginning to see today in Germany.

[38] In Germany one might cite Lassalle, who admired Bismarck, or Miquel, who was once a socialist and is now devoted to the Empire. But the latter example doesn’t apply, because Miquel simply abandoned his old beliefs and may very well be a sincere convert.

[39] Anthologia Planudea, II:

“‘Peace to all,’ said the bishop as he entered.

But how can she be with all, she whom he alone keeps within?”

[40] In fact, this has already happened. A certain man, seeking to profit from the money of others through one of those operations known as “snowballs” (boules de neige), published the following circular, as reported by Le Siècle, July 20, 1900:

“No one has a right to a surplus until everyone has what is necessary. It is these great principles that have led us to create, for the working class, victim of human inequality, a special arrangement by which we offer the means of obtaining, for free and without spending a penny, all that constitutes the well-being of man, woman, and child. We are and always will be the friends of the poor and nothing more. We recommend our special arrangement to workers... in short, to all laborers, who will understand its humanitarian purpose, and thanks to this ingenious application of the fruitful idea of mutual aid, all that once constituted the well-being attainable only by the privileged class is now democratized, etc.”

Among my papers I’ve misplaced a circular letter printed by a tailor, who asked people to buy their clothes from him “in the name of the solidarity that must unite the workers, exploited by the capitalist, and the honest merchant, victim of the Jews and of the large department stores.”

[41] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "la classe dominante" (the dominant or ruling class). He does so 17 times.

[42] Duruy, Histoire des Romains, IV, p. 522, narrating the cowardice of aristocratic conspirators under Nero, adds:

“Such is the great courage of these proud republicans! Before the slightest torture or ordeal, they lose all dignity and, to save their lives, they throw to the executioner their friends and relatives. Is not Lucan just as much a parricide as Nero, he who accuses his innocent mother? How much cowardice had despotism and corruption instilled in souls that seemed so well-forged! Never had the moral level of the world sunk so low.”

These last remarks are mere rhetorical declamations. If the aristocracy was cowardly, courage was still found among the people. Duruy himself notes: “A woman, a courtesan, shamed these unworthy Romans… Soldiers too showed some remnants of ancient virtues.”

On the one hand, we see Piso who, while having his veins cut, still flatters Nero, Testamentum foedis adversus Neronem adulationibus amori uxoris dedit: “In a will full of vile flattery toward Nero, he gave his love to his wife.” (Tacitus, Annals, XV, 59); on the other hand, we see a simple centurion, Subrius, who has the courage to hurl Nero’s crimes back in his face:

“odisse coepi, postquam parricida matris et uxoris, auriga et histrio et incendiarius exstitisti" (I began to hate you when you became the murderer of your mother and wife, a charioteer, an actor, and an arsonist.) (ibid., 67).

Who cannot see, in this contrast, a dying aristocracy and the birth of a new one?

Taine, L’Ancien Régime, p. 219:

“All-powerful education had repressed, softened, and exhausted even instinct. Before imminent death, they (the French gentlemen) no longer felt that sudden surge of blood and rage, the universal, spontaneous upwelling of all their powers, the murderous frenzy, the irresistible and blind urge to strike at those who struck them. Never would you see a gentleman arrested in his home break the head of the Jacobin arresting him. (In a footnote: An example of what individual armed resistance could have been: a gentleman in Marseille, hiding in his countryside home and proscribed, armed himself with a rifle, a pair of pistols, and a sabre, and never went out without them, declaring he would not be taken alive. No one dared serve the arrest warrant.) They let themselves be captured, they obediently went to prison; making a fuss would be in bad taste, and above all, it was important to remain what they were—men of good society… Before the judges, on the cart, they retained their dignity and smile; the women especially went to the scaffold with the poise and serenity they showed at an evening reception.”

Taine comes closer than Duruy to the truth, but even he misses the mark. It wasn’t just education that deprived them of active courage; it was a complex of circumstances, including their sentimental foolishness. Thus our present-day bourgeoisie, who in speeches and writings flatter their enemies and kiss the boots of “the little and the humble,” are ripe for the noose and will allow themselves to be robbed and killed without resistance.

[43] “Nec omisit Silanus obniti et intendere ictus, quantum manibus nudis valebat, donec a centurione vulneribus adversis, tamquam in pugna, caderet" (Silanus did not cease resisting and striking back, as much as he could with his bare hands, until he fell under the blows of the centurion, wounded in front, as though in battle.) (Tacitus, Annals, XVI, 9)

[44] La Conquête Jacobine, p. 240.

[45] Ibid., p. 242.

[46] Renan, L’Église chrétienne, p. 296:

“Everyone was improving... The relief of those who suffered became a universal concern... The cruel Roman aristocracy was being replaced by a provincial aristocracy of honest people who wished for good. The strength and grandeur of the ancient world were vanishing (very true, and once strength is gone, what reason remains for dominance?); people were becoming kind, gentle, patient, humane (in a word: weak; and then it is time to step aside and make room for the strong). As always happens, socialist ideas benefited from this broad-mindedness and began to appear…”

[47] Le Bon, Psychologie du socialisme, p. 384: “The adversaries of the new barbarians think only of negotiating with them and prolonging their own existence through a series of concessions, which only serve to encourage those who are assaulting them and to earn their contempt.”

[48] In one of his latest verdicts, in a case against a witness accused of perjury, he said:

“Considering that X, by committing this heinous perjury, became the conscious tool of a family and especially of an individual who believed that, thanks to his fortune, which, according to the mayor of his commune, dates back to the invasion of 1870–1871, he could easily mislead justice and escape his obligations, etc…”

What does this insinuation about the origin of the family’s wealth have to do with the legal matter? What relevance is there between that origin, unproven and based only on hearsay, and the sole question the judge was meant to rule on, whether a witness had been corrupted or not? But let’s note that the supposedly false testimony concerned a seduction. So instead of a ruling, we get a melodrama. On one side, the traitor, the tyrant, whose every word and act is criminal, and to complete the picture, the poet presents him as heir to a fortune won by betraying his country. On the other side, the innocent dove, persecuted, in whom all breathes supreme virtue.

That judge will now preside over the Congrès de l’humanité. His declamations will be more fitting there than in a courtroom verdict.

[49] G. Salvemini (Magnati e popolani in Firenze dal 1280 al 1795, p. 178), observes that in Florence, for offenses committed by nobles against commoners, the penalty was doubled “only in the case of serious injury with bloodshed; in other cases, the penalty was quintupled or even sextupled. Also, in the Carta del Popolo of Orvieto from the early 13th century, it is generally established that the penalty for a noble who offends a commoner is four times that imposed in common cases; and in the 1308 Statute of Lucca, for certain crimes the penalty is doubled, in others tripled, quadrupled, or quintupled.” On page 213: “When a commoner accused a noble, the judges could not so easily acquit, because they were immediately accused of being partial to the nobles… therefore, the judges always convicted and always sided with the offended party or with the one claiming to be such.” Precisely what happens now before certain probiviri tribunals or even ordinary courts elected directly or indirectly by the people. One of those judges excused himself for a sentence he himself recognized as unjust by saying: “I couldn't harm my party and be ungrateful to those who elected me.”

Our author continues: “Because of this the nobles complained and said: ‘A knight rides and brushes a commoner’s face with his horse’s tail, or in a crowd one may bump another without malice; or children might quarrel; should such people be ruined for such trifles?’” And in a footnote: “An example of how laws were interpreted is offered by Neri Strinati (Cronichetta, p. 122 and following). In 1294, Neri had become a guarantor with the Scali company for M. Lamberto Cipriani for a debt of 550 lire, along with five other partners, two of whom were commoners. When the principal failed and the guarantors had to pay, one of the two commoners had died and the other refused; ‘and it happened because I and Maffeo Brunelleschi (another guarantor) were nobles and we could not take action against Gone and the heirs of Goso (the two commoners), because… the ordinances of the people had been made against the nobles.’” At least the victims complained—now they stay silent. I know of other such cases but cannot recount them here because those who suffered injustice are too faint-hearted, fearing that even complaining about it might be held against them.

[50] In Rome, if the senators were corrupt as judges, the knights were even more corrupt:

“The right to judge elevated the knights to the rank of masters and reduced the senators to that of subjects. The new judges sided with the tribunes of the plebs in votes and, in exchange for their support, received from the tribunes everything they wanted (exactly what happens now). They were not content with political power. In the courts, they openly committed injustices against the senators (just as the probiviri do now against the bourgeois). They became accustomed to corruption, and once they had tasted the pleasure of earning a lot, they indulged in it even more shamefully than the former judges.”

Belot, Histoire des chevaliers romains, II, p. 238.

[51] The man was named Victor Buurmans; he was killed in Courbevoie by a woman who, to reach him, had disguised herself as a man. At the trial, a letter by Élisée Reclus was read, reprinted in Le Figaro, April 13, 1900. The distinguished geographer and utopian wrote:

“I frequently saw Buurmans in his home, and I always admired the kindness, gentleness, and nobility of his attitude toward his wife and the dignified restraint he showed when he had occasion to speak of her. He never complained, and it took the utmost of his suffering to compel him to write the heartbreaking letter in which he explained to his friends the reason for leaving the marital home…”The newspaper stated: “Involved in the events of the Commune, a part-time poet, Victor Buurmans married thirty-seven years ago the resident of one of those houses where idylls rarely begin. But the humanitarian philosopher had dreamed the generous dream of rescuing Elisa from shame…”

[52] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "la spogliazione" (plunder).

[53] G. Le Bon says it very well in Psychologie du socialisme, p. 475: “It is not by flattering the masses with the most humiliating servility, as is done today, that one succeeds in winning them over. They tolerate those who flatter them, but do so with a just contempt, and immediately raise their demands as the flattery grows more excessive.” And again, on p. 369: “If the proletarian could doubt his own logic, he would not lack rhetoricians, more servile before him than the courtiers are before the despots of the East, always ready to remind him of his imaginary rights.”

Le Bon has many sound insights on socialism, but he is simply a believer in a certain anthropological-patriotic religion and speaks of it with the enthusiasm of a true believer. He fights socialism because it is a competing religion. He somewhat resembles the emperor Julian, who fought Christianity not as a free thinker, but as a devotee of his own form of pagan religion.

[54] Why waste words to again describe what has already been excellently described? I prefer to quote here some verses from Aristophanes' Knights, taken from the translation by Augusto Franchetti, marvelous in its fidelity to the original text, with a pleasant Hellenic flavor, and in every way quite perfect:

Paphlagon

(773) Oh Demos, is there anyone who loves you more than I?
Since you made me your advisor, I have filled your coffers with gold
tearing from one, strangling another, snatching booty elsewhere
And never thinking of myself, only of helping you.

Sausage-Seller

(777) No miracle in that, Demos; I can do just the same:
By stealing others’ bread, I’ll gladly serve it to you...

Sausage-Seller

(906) I offer you a little pot of ointment, with which you can
Rub your aching shins all around.

Paphlagon

By removing my white hair, you make me young again!

Sausage-Seller

I’ll clean your little eyes with this soft tail.

Paphlagon

(910) And wipe the snot from my head with your hand.

Sausage-Seller

On mine, oh! On mine!

[55] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "la rapine" (robbery or theft).

[56] (Note by the translator) Pareto says here "la classe dirigente" (the managing or ruling class). More often (17 times) he says "la classe dominante" (the ruling class).

[57] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "il metodo di tosare le pecore".

[58] (Note by the translator) Pareto says here "la classe dirigente" (the managing or ruling class).

[59] Augeard writes: “M. de Calonne, upon taking office, arranged a loan of one hundred million, of which a quarter did not even reach the royal treasury; the rest was devoured by courtiers. It’s estimated he gave the Comte d'Artois fifty-six million, and Monsieur’s share was twenty-five million, etc.” And Ch. Gomel, in Les derniers receveurs généraux, p. 155: “To the courtiers he multiplied largesse; he never turned down a request for money; financial favors seemed to cost him nothing... Profusion replaced discernment; a prince later said: ‘When I saw that everyone held out their hand, I held out my hat.’ Millions were thus distributed among all who approached the controller-general (Calonne), and sometimes he even took the initiative in bestowing such gifts... Since the war was over and commerce was thriving, Calonne’s extravagance, far from arousing astonishment or blame, was generally taken as proof of the state's immense resources.” This same thing happened in other times and in other countries.

Further on, p. 197: “To please other great lords, he proceeded sometimes with acquisitions, sometimes with exchanges, and in his valuations, he was exceedingly accommodating. The purpose he pursued by agreeing to these acts was not to expand or enrich the royal domain, but to satisfy the petitions of the sellers and exchangers… Pamphlets claimed that the finance minister’s leniency was dearly bought… This accusation was indignantly rejected by Calonne… and does not seem justified.” The same can be said of other ministers, who widely distributed the benefits of customs and banking protection while receiving little or nothing in return. In any case, it often happens that deeply corrupt classes are served by ministers who are more or less honest.

[60] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "(la rapina ed il saccheggio)" (robberry and looting).

[61] (Note by the translator) Pareto distinguishes here between "forza e violenza" (force and violence).

[62] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "le arti maggiori e le arti minori".

[63] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "caste chiuse" (a closed or exclusive caste).

[64] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "la classe operaia" (the working class).

[65] Note carefully that we are speaking of mutual dependence, not merely a simple cause-effect relationship.

[66] (Note by the translator) The use of the phrase "società guerriére e società industriali" recalls Herbert Spencer's distinction between "militant and industrial societies".

[67] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "la nuova aristocrazia operaia" (the new aristocracy of workers).

[68] P. de Rousiers, Le trade-unionisme en Angleterre, p. 29.

[69] Ibidem. pag. 29, 34, 38.

[70] (Note by the translator) Pareto gave his first definition of "L'aristocrazia" on p. 408- "un'aristocrazia, intendendo questo termine nel senso etimologico e volgendolo a significare i più forti, energici e capaci, così nel bene del resto come nel male" (an aristocracy, understanding this term in its etymological sense and using it to mean the strongest, most energetic, and capable individuals, both for good and for ill),

[71] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "scelti" (chosen or selected).

[72] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "una classe aristocratica" (an aristocratic class).

[73] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "varie classi stratificate che costituiscono l'aristocrazia" (various stratified classes that constitute the aristocracy).

[74] Ibidem. pag. 40, 41.

[75] There are secondary signs that should not be entirely overlooked; for example, now in France, there’s a tendency to excuse the violence and crimes that occur during strikes by blaming them on “anarchists.” In other words, the new proletarians serve as scapegoats for the new aristocracy. Le Figaro, a bourgeois newspaper that has become somewhat socialist since Millerand became minister, published on June 5, 1900: “The unrest in Chalon-sur-Saône revealed a fact which is the subject of a special investigation. It was not the striking workers who participated in the disturbances (but who could have imagined such a thing about those perfect and impeccable beings?), which nearly turned into a bloody riot. It is only fair to absolve them of responsibility: on the contrary, it was anarchists (once called peasants, now called anarchists; this is worth remembering)... These wrongdoers arrived in the region in numbers around 300; they held secret meetings, fomented the strike (better not to touch that point—trying to prove too much, the journalist reveals his hand), and it was their sudden intervention that threw this industrious region of Saône-et-Loire into turmoil, etc.”

[76] P. de Rousiers, loc. cit., pp. 91–92.

[77] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "un fascio" (a bundle of sticks like the Roman "fasces", later adopted as the symbol of the "Fascisists").

[78] A popular song of the time, cited by Janssen, says: “Life had long been easy and comfortable, but suddenly they no longer wanted to pay the tithes… they wanted to divide up property… but punishment came quickly… and here is the end of the song: it is a barbaric tyranny. Ah! Lord God! Give us peace!”

Another song says: “They told us: you will become rich, you will be happy and honored; they promised us every kind of good. Thus, they deceived us. Have we become rich? May God have mercy on us. The little we had is now lost. Now we are poor indeed.”

[79] The “poor and humble” gained little or nothing from the fact that, in Rome, the knights rose above the senators and obtained judicial power. Diodorus Siculus recounts how Q. Mucius Scaevola, with his quaestor P. Rutilius Rufus, restrained the greed of the publicans in Asia and curbed the misgovernment which, aided by the knights, oppressed the people. The knights took revenge by convicting the honest and upright. Rutilius. Asconius, In divinat., 17: “Scaevolam significat. Hujus quaestor, Rutilius Rufus, damnatus est, quod cum praetore consenserit suo, ne publicani aliquid agerent in provincia sua; quo cognito, equites Romani (nam tum ante Sullana tempora iudicabant) damnarunt eum" (He means Scaevola. His quaestor, Rutilius Rufus, was condemned because he agreed with his praetor that no publican should act in his province; upon learning this, the Roman knights (who judged at that time, before Sulla’s reforms) condemned him.)

[80] II, 322–324.

[81] Psychologie des sociétés, p. 356.

[82] Op. cit., pp. 389, 391.

[83] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "le classi governanti" (the governing or ruling classes).

[84] Le Bon says it excellently in Psychologie des sociétés, p. 461: “Modern socialism is much more a mental state than a doctrine. What makes it so threatening is not the relatively minor changes it has produced in the popular psyche, but the already significant transformations it has brought about in the minds of the ruling classes.”

[85] (Note by the translator) Pareto says "le classi agiate" (the well to do, well off classes).