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A New Social Question
A New Social Question:
Capitalism, Socialism
and Utopia
Edited by
Casey Harison
A New Social Question: Capitalism, Socialism and Utopia
Edited by Casey Harison
This book first published 2015
Cambridge Scholars Publishing
Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Copyright © 2015 by Casey Harison and contributors
All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without
the prior permission of the copyright owner.
ISBN (10): 1-4438-8374-3

ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-8374-0
TABLE OF CONTENTS
List of Tables ............................................................................................. vii
Acknowledgements .................................................................................. viii
Introduction ................................................................................................. 1
Casey Harison
Part I: Capitalism
Chapter One ................................................................................................. 8

John Stuart Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism and the Road to Socialism
Helen McCabe
Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 27

“The Right to Aspire to Everything”: Entering the Capitalist Economy
in Nineteenth-Century France
Emily C. Teising
Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 43

From Utopian Socialism to Utopian Capitalism in the American
Individualist Republic
Susan Love Brown
Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 64

The Divine Right of Things: On the “Impersonal Dependence”
of Capitalism
Paul Christopher Gray
Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 85

Rediscovering Inequality: From Bush to Piketty
Leonard Williams, John Deal and Matthew Hendryx
vi Table of Contents
Part II: Socialism
Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 108

The Capitalism, Christian Communism and Communitarian Socialism
of New Harmony’s Founders George Rapp and Robert Owen
Donald E. Pitzer
Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 126

Alternative Currency, Warren’s “Time Store” and an Inquiry
into Arendtian Labor
Robert Geroux
Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 144

Proudhon as a Guide to Socialism with a Human Face
Neil Wright
Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 164

Cybernetic Socialism and the Technological Singularity
Ted Goertzel
Part III: Utopia
Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 184

Engels, Owen and Utopianism—Then and Now
Joe White
Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ 198

Seeking a Better Life: A Study of Utopian Communities Proposed
by Robert Owen and Edward Bellamy
Annette M. Magid
Chapter Twelve ....................................................................................... 218

Utopia and Apocalypse Now: (Re)Producing Meta-Narrative in America
Jeremy Buesink
Chapter Thirteen ...................................................................................... 238

Utopia and the Marxian Critique of Political Economy
David F. Ruccio
Contributors ............................................................................................. 262

LIST OF TABLES
Top Income Shares and Average Incomes. United States. 1975-2013.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank the University of Southern Indiana for its support of
the conference on “Capitalism & Socialism: Utopia, Globalization, and
Revolution” (New Harmony, Indiana, November 2014) from which the
chapters in this book are drawn, and Marilyn Thielman for her great help
in organizing that conference.
INTRODUCTION
CASEY HARISON
In November 2014, the University of Southern Indiana’s Center for

Communal Studies sponsored the conference on “Capitalism & Socialism:
Utopia, Globalization and Revolution” at New Harmony, Indiana as part
of the bicentennial celebration of New Harmony’s founding by German
Harmonists in 1814. The Harmonists are fairly well known, at least among
scholars, but New Harmony is probably most famous as the site of
industrialist Robert Owen’s experiment in communal living in 1825, and it
was especially the legacy of Owen that animated the proceedings and drew
participants from across the Atlantic to this small town in southwest
Indiana.
When the conversation about how to celebrate New Harmony’s
bicentennial began, the possibility of the Center organizing a conference
around the theme of “capitalism and socialism” came up. This seemed a
great idea–a topic very much befitting New Harmony’s history, a good
way to attract scholars who otherwise were probably unfamiliar with the
Center for Communal Studies, and timely because the effects of the Great
Recession were still with us. Indeed by the second decade of the twenty-
first century, some of the momentous issues of Robert Owen’s day had
again come to feel relevant in ways they had not for a generation or more.
As a factory owner and manager in early nineteenth-century New Lanark,
Scotland, Owen was a “success” in the new regime of modern capitalism.
But as a critical observer of the effects of industrialization, he was also a
committed reformer–one of the “utopian socialists” mentioned by Marx
whose ideas were tremendously influential in his day. The thinking in
planning the conference was that Owen’s work and the experiment he
pursued at New Harmony again had currency as the world looked back on
the 2008 economic crisis and as socialism, seemingly banished with the
failure of Communist states in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet
Union at the end of the last century, has returned to the political and
economic lexicon.
As the planning for the conference proceeded, more than one person
pointed out that it appeared that in coming up with a title we had just
2 Introduction
“strung together a bunch of big words.” And in a way this was true,
though we did so with the sense that the words–some of which did not
exist or had only recently begun to show up in dictionaries in Owen’s day–
represented modern ideas with origins mostly in the eighteenth century,
whose promise Owen sought to understand in his own time and as we are
still trying to sort them out nearly two centuries later. The processes
represented by the words in the conference title–“capitalism,” “socialism,”
“utopia,” “globalization,” “revolution”–were at the heart of what was
called the “Social Question” when Owen arrived at New Harmony in
1825.
For Robert Owen and his contemporaries, the Social Question was part
and parcel of the “industrializing” revolution for which Owen himself was
as much responsible as any factory owner of his day. The status of the
industrial working class–their living and working conditions in the
nineteenth century’s “age of pauperism,” but also their political rights–
were central to the original Social Question as the phrase gained currency
in Western Europe and then the Americas in the first half of the nineteenth
century.1 Owen did not use the precise phrase in A New View of Society
(1817) and The Book of the New Model World (1840), but the books are
nonetheless filled with references to the “social” and to posing “questions”
about the troubling condition of contemporary society. The modern social
sciences represented among the chapters in this book took their shape
during the second half of the nineteenth century partly as ways to
understand and address the Social Question.
By the turn of the century and particularly after the First World War,
the way of thinking about modernity represented by the Social Question
faded as chattel slavery was abolished in those corners of the world where
it persisted, and as political rights were won by workers, peasants and
women. In the twentieth century, technology promised ways to improve
the standard of living across the globe, while Marxism-Leninism and the
great revolutions in Russia and China offered universal solutions to the on-
going problems of modernity. By the 1930s, “Social Question” seemed
like an old-fashioned way to formulate a plan for changing the world for
the better.
Yet the underlying questions about how to live in the modern world
did not fade away. Since the end of the Cold War, scholars have once
more taken up the Social Question as they have updated the phrase’s
application. Pierre Rosanvallon, for one, formulated a “New Social
Question” in terms of the “crisis” of the welfare state that began in the
1970s. He argues that socialism, which seemed an answer to the Social
Question for part of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, is no longer an
A New Social Question: Capitalism, Socialism and Utopia 3
option because of its’ “deterioration… deriv(-ing) almost directly from the

philosophical crisis of the welfare state.”2 For Rosanvallon, there has been
a shift in the direction and the potential “answers” of Social Question in
the second half of the twentieth century, but for other scholars who use the
phrase it mostly continues to stand for alternatives to capitalism.3 Today
the Social Question is less about gaining the right to vote for an industrial
working class and more about guaranteeing the broader range of universal
human rights for all. It is less about the path down which industry is
carrying humanity and more about using technology and the sciences to
raise the standard of living for the disadvantaged. Where the idea of
sustainability was only implicit in the nineteenth century’s Social
Question, it is explicit in the twenty-first century’s New Social Question.
We did not use the phrase in our conference title, but the idea of the
Social Question was there in the panels at New Harmony. In hindsight, we
can say that the bicentennial celebration at New Harmony offered a small
opportunity to return to the Social Question and the fundamental issues
that framed Robert Owen’s mental landscape, as they do for an even more
integrated world today. We hoped that the conference and this book,
which draws from papers presented at New Harmony, might represent, to
borrow a phrase from Erik Olin Wright, a moment of “emancipatory social
science.”4 The issues explored here include the globalizing aspirations of
capitalism and socialism; the paths, including reform or revolution, toward
capitalism or socialism; the degree to which the promises of material well-
being and fulfilled political lives born of these siblings of the
Enlightenment and Industrial Revolutions remain achievable; and, finally,
the opportunity to simply imagine “utopian” alternatives to the status quo.
These are all aspects of A New Social Question.
Contributors to this volume come from fields in the social sciences and
humanities. The coverage is transatlantic, with topics and authors from
North America and Europe. The book is organized into sections on
“capitalism,” “socialism” and “utopia.” Within sections, chapters are
arranged chronologically. Particular topics include individual thinkers and
theorists from the nineteenth century–Robert Owen, Karl Marx, Frederick
Engels, John Stuart Mill and Pierre-Joseph Proudhon–as well as analysis
of contemporary topics, including the recent work of economist Thomas
Piketty. Other chapters take up the interplay of religion, economics and
“cybernetics” within these globalizing systems. The final section on
“utopia” presents a synthesis on capitalism and socialism, concluding with
a “Marxian critique of utopia.”
With the collapse of the Soviet Union and Stalinist states across
Eastern Europe a generation ago, it felt, as one scholar famously put it at
4 Introduction
the time that we had reached “the end of history.” 5 The questions and
contests that had animated university life, as they had defined politics and
economics across the Atlantic and beyond for the previous two centuries,
seemed to have been settled. But of course this was not really the case. As
Joyce Appleby, David Harvey and Thomas Piketty have lately reminded
us, capitalism, particularly the forms it has assumed since 1945, is
probably exceptional, perhaps ephemeral, but also dynamic and resilient.6
If the Great Recession derailed personal lives, destabilized economies and
unnerved politicians, it also reminded us that we have not reached the end
of history. Where there was once a Social Question, there is now a New
Social Question. The great questions of modernity, of capitalism and
socialism, that troubled Robert Owen and inspired him to test his ideas for
an alternative, “utopian” future along the banks of the Wabash River on
what was then the frontier of the United States, persist, as they also
provide an opportunity in this book to once again re-consider these
enduring subjects.
Bibliography
Appleby, Joyce. The Relentless Revolution: A History of Capitalism (New
York: Norton, 2011).
Beck, Herman. The Origins of the Authoritarian Welfare State in Prussia:
Conservatives, Bureaucracy, and The Social Question, 1815-1870
(Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995).
Castel, Robert. From Manual Workers to Wage Laborers: Transformation
of the Social Question, tr. and ed., Richard Boyd (New Brunswick, NJ:
Transaction Publishers, 2003).
Fukuyama, Francis. End of History and the Last Man (New York: Free
Press, 1992).
Harvey, David. Seventeen Contradictions and the End of Capitalism
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).
Marx, Ive. A New Social Question: On Minimum Income Protection in the
Postindustrial Era (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2007).
Masaryk, T. G. Masaryk on Marx: An Unabridged Edition of T.G.
Masaryk: The Social Question: Philosophical and Sociological
Foundations of Marxism, tr. and ed. Erazim V. Kohák (Lewisburg, PA:
Bucknell University Press, 1972).
Moggach, Douglas, and Paul Leduc Browne, eds., The Social Question
and the Democratic Revolution: Marx and the Legacy of 1848
(Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2000).
Piketty, Thomas. Capital in the Twenty-First Century, tr. Arthur
A New Social Question: Capitalism, Socialism and Utopia 5
Goldhammer (New York: Belknap Press, 2014).

Rosanvallon, Pierre. The New Social Question: Rethinking the Welfare
State, tr. Barbara Harshau (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2000).
Wright, Erik Olen. Envisioning Real Utopias (New York: Verso, 2010).
Notes

1
Hermann Beck, The Origins of the Authoritarian Welfare State in Prussia:
Conservatives, Bureaucracy, and the Social Question, 1815-1870 (Ann Arbor:
University of Michigan Press, 1995), 2. Google Books Ngram Viewers using the
phrases “social question” (English) and “la question sociale” (French) show usage
of the phrase beginning in the early 1840s and reaching peaks in English-language
texts around 1880 and French-language texts around 1900; http://books.
Google.com/ngrams.
2
Rosanvallon, The New Social Question: Rethinking the Welfare State, tr. Barbara
Harshau (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 108.
3
See, for instance, Ive Marx, A New Social Question: On Minimum Income
Protection in the Postindustrial Era (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press,
2007); Doulgas Moggach and Paul Leduc Browne, eds., The Social Question and
the Democratic Revolution: Marx and the Legacy of 1848 (Ottawa: University of
Ottawa Press, 2000); Robert Castel, From Manual Workers to Wage Laborers:
Transformation of the Social Question, tr. and ed., Richard Boyd (New Brunswick,
NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2003); and T.G. Masaryk, Masaryk on Marx: An
Unabridged Edition of T.G. Masaryk: The Social Question: Philosophical and
Sociological Foundations of Marxism, tr. and ed. Erazim V. Kohák (Lewisburg,
PA: Bucknell University press, 1972).
4
Erik Olin Wright, Envisioning Real Utopias (New York: Verso, 2010).
5
Francis Fukuyama, End of History and the Last Man (New York: Free Press,
1992).
6
Appleby, The Relentless Revolution: A History of Capitalism (New York:
Norton, 2011); Harvey, Seventeen Contradictions and the End of Capitalism
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015); Piketty, Capital in the Twenty-First
Century, tr. Arthur Goldhammer (New York: Belknap Press, 2014)
PART I:
CAPITALISM
CHAPTER ONE
JOHN STUART MILL’S ANALYSIS

OF CAPITALISM AND THE ROAD TO SOCIALISM
HELEN MCCABE
In Principles of Political Economy, John Stuart Mill both provides an

assessment of the workability and desirability of some prominent
contemporary forms of socialism, and sketches his own view of how
society might be transformed from capitalism into socialism. 1 His
assessment of contemporary forms of socialism–particularly Owenite
communism, Saint-Simonism and Fourierism–in the main determines, not
that the schemes are themselves wholly unworkable, nor that the criticisms
socialists level against contemporary capitalism are entirely unwarranted,
but that a better solution could be found which would also not involve
their potential problems (particularly for the free development of
individuality). 2 Co-operative socialism, which avoids these problems,
whilst also providing solutions to the problems of capitalism, is far more
favorably reviewed. 3 It is true that Mill’s language regarding the
transformation of capitalism is possibilistic rather than deterministic or
normatively prescriptive (often using “may” rather than, say, “will”), but
there are both clues in his work that he thought some of these changes
would come about (perhaps so long as dominant class-interest did not
actively seek to prevent it), and that it should–after all, Mill describes a
similar set of reforms as his “Utopia” and declared that, by the mid-1840s,
his political philosophy was “under the general designation of Socialist”.4
Although the Saint-Simonian scheme called for state-wide adoption of
socialism, and the Owenite and Fourierist schemes Mill assessed called for
small intentional communities (such as that planned at New Harmony),
they were linked by their demand for whole-scale adoption of socialism,
and, therefore, for total, immediate, root-and-branch reform. 5 Mill’s
preferred model of transformation to socialism is piece-meal, peaceful,
small-scale, incremental, voluntaristic, organic and grass-roots-led–but his
proposed, and favored, transformation is no-less radical or, in the end,
John Stuart Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism and the Road to Socialism 9
wide-reaching. Although wary of being too prescriptive, the socialist

proposals Mill did make, ultimately, call for some state-action, provision
and ownership (at both national and local level), alongside agricultural and
industrial producer- and consumer-cooperatives, which could be as
communal in their living arrangements as members wished, and which
would implement just distributions of the surpluses of co-operation
according to principles of justice democratically determined by all
members.6 He also envisaged radical reform to the family, to religion, to
the social ethos and, ultimately, to human nature itself.7 In this chapter I
wish to sketch, firstly, Mill’s analysis of capitalism, and, secondly, his
preferred road to socialism.
Mill’s Changing Political Theory and Philosophy

of History: Opening up the Possibility for Social
Progress beyond Liberalism
Firstly, however, a word concerning Mill’s owns “road” to a critical
analysis of capitalism, and the transition to socialism. In his youth, Mill
believed his father (James Mill) and Jeremy Bentham (amongst others)
had discovered the complete program for desirable social change, and that,
if their philosophic-radical proposals were instituted in and by
government, the end-state of social improvement would be achieved. 8
There was neither the space within these reforms for anything approaching
socialism, nor any scope for considering possible social improvement
beyond this program. 9 This is clearly to be seen in his debates against
Owenites in the early 1820s, where Mill, though professing to share their
ultimate endeavor of alleviating the plight of the poor, and evidently
sharing much of their feminism, forthrightly declares that the resources
involved in setting up Owenite intentional communities would be much
better spent on directly improving education; on political reform to trade,
and to aristocratic and religious privilege; and on setting up representative
government by universal personhood suffrage.10 There is no real criticism
of capitalism, for poverty is seen as the fault of old, and out-dated,
institutions such as monarchy, aristocracy, and established religion, all of
which lead to bad government run in the interests of the few, alongside
poor education, particularly concerning population control. The very need
to transition to socialism is denied: philosophic-radicalism will be enough.
But Mill lost his childhood faith during what he calls “a crisis” in his
“mental history”, and developed some independent ideas of what means
and methods to adopt in order to achieve utility (which remained the
ultimate goal of social improvement), as well as to what “utility” meant.11
10 Chapter One
In addition, in adopting a new view of history from the Saint-Simonians

(socialists with whom he came into contact in the early 1830s) a new
horizon appeared, beyond the current “critical” age, in which there were
new possibilities not only for social reform and improvement but for the
institutions and social ethos (or ideology) which they would bring about.12
The Saint-Simonians and Mill’s Changing Philosophy

of History
The Saint-Simonians proposed that history was split into two distinct types
of “age” – “organic” and “critical”.13 In organic ages, there was an over-
arching ideology (religious, political, social, scientific etc.) which
adequately explained the world and which was near-universally adhered
to.14 It supported, and was supported by, a particular set of social, political,
religious and economic institutions.15 For instance, the European Middle
Ages was an organic age in which a particular near-universally believed
ideology was (repeatedly re-)generated and supported by institutions
whose legitimacy and “naturalness” it, in turn, explained.16 But over time,
Mill took the Saint-Simonians to explain, humanity progressed (socially,
intellectually, technologically, politically), and these institutions, and their
attendant ideology, were no longer either suitable or able to adequately
explain the world. 17 Thus society entered a “critical” age (e.g. the
Reformation), where faith was lost in both institutions and ideology;
where the institutions were torn down; and in which, slowly, a new
organic age was built upon the ashes of the former one. 18 This, Mill
believed, could last a long time, as can be seen by his identification of the
Reformation and French Revolution both belonging to the same critical
age in which he found himself.19
As part of this change in his view of history, Mill came to identify his
previous philosophic-radical ideas as being a necessary part of the work of
the current critical age–they were, though, no longer all that could be said
regarding social improvement. Instead, he saw at least a part of his role as
a philosopher and reformer to be building the institutions and ideology of
a new, organic age–a task which would take different proposals and ideas
to his philosophic-radicalism, which was only suited to the current, critical
age.20
It was his consideration of what that forthcoming organic age ought to
look like, along with viewing contemporary capitalism and his previously-
desired changes with newly-critical eyes, which took Mill down the “road”
to socialism, a critical analysis to which I wish now to turn.
Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism

Evidently, Mill much preferred capitalism to feudalism–capitalism was
more productive and efficient, offering a chance to eradicate poverty, and
it went hand-in-hand with important advances in knowledge, and political
and social reforms, such as representative government, civil liberties, and
the destruction of inherited and established privilege. When faced with
paternalist theorists, Mill clearly argued against what was being hailed as a
“return” to feudal relations of dependence and protection as inappropriate,
unsuitable and out-dated, as well as arguing that such relationships never
really existed as anything other than exploitation, conquest and use of
force.21 Mill also defended capitalism–and particularly private ownership
of articles of consumption and competition in the market for goods and
services–against some of the charges laid against it by socialists. This said,
however, Mill made his own criticisms of capitalism, and was by no
means its whole-hearted supporter.22
Mill criticized capitalism on five fronts, which I will take in turn:
liberty and independence; equality and social justice; inefficiency and
wastage; relentless pursuit of growth; and social harmony and ethos.23
Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds of Liberty

and Independence
Mill is, of course, most famous as the author of On Liberty, and it is worth
recollecting that he asserts his “one very simple principle” against the
prevailing social and political evils of contemporary capitalist society–one
in which the (democratic) tyranny of the majority is liable to crush all
individuality, eccentricity and difference. 24 Evidently, he thought that
some forms of socialism (particularly communism) offered the same risks
as contemporary capitalist society on this score, and that “the social
problem of the future” would be “how to unite the greatest individual
liberty of action, with … common ownership”.25 But it is worth bearing in
mind that this was a problem contemporary capitalism faced just as much
as any possible socialist future.
Indeed, Mill insists that the criticism of communism (by which he
means socialist schemes involving communal ownership of property in
both articles of consumption and the means of production) on the grounds
of apparent lack of individual freedom is “vastly over-exaggerated.” 26
“The restraints of Communism” he says “would be freedom in comparison
with the present condition of the majority of the human race.”27 Under
contemporary capitalism, most laborers have little or no choice of
12 Chapter One
occupation, or freedom of movement, and are “practically as dependent”

on “fixed rules” and “the will of others” as they can be, short of slavery.28
Moreover, half the world’s population (women) live in “entire domestic
subjection” (from which socialism aims to free them).29 Against this, Mill
declares himself in favor of the independence of the laboring classes, not
just in terms of rejecting the paternalist the idea that the rich should be “in
loco parentis to the poor”, but in the sense that laborers should be able to
take responsibility and control over their own working conditions (firstly
through profit-sharing, secondly through co-operation).30 The poor ought
to be able to think for themselves, and make decisions regarding “the
determination of their destiny.”31 Indeed, this was a central element of his
socialism, which was cooperative rather than communist. As others rightly
argue, Mill saw co-operation as importantly extending liberty into the
economic sphere, and one of the elements of his critical analysis of
capitalism was that it did not make people as free as they might be.32
Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds of Equality

and Social Justice
Mill was fiercely critical of contemporary capitalism on the grounds of
equality and social justice.33 At the start of “On the Probable Futurity Of
the Labouring Classes”, he expresses his dissatisfaction with the title of
the chapter, which is “descriptive of an existing, but by no means a
necessary or permanent, state of social relations” because he “do[es] not
recognise as either just or salutary, a state of society in which there is any
‘class’ which is not labouring; any human beings, exempt from bearing
their share of the necessary labors of human life, except those unable to
labor, or who have fairly earned rest by previous toil”.34 This is not only a
state of affairs which capitalism has not brought about–it has not sought to
bring it about, and, indeed, could not bring it about.35
In contemporary capitalism, “some are born to riches and the vast
majority to poverty”, and this is unjust in itself, as is the fact that “the
produce of labour ... [is] apportioned … almost in an inverse ratio to
labour–the largest portions to those who have never worked at all, the next
largest to those whose work is almost nominal, and so in a descending
scale, the remuneration dwindling as the work grows harder and more
disagreeable, until the most fatiguing and exhausting bodily labour cannot
count with certainty on being able to earn even the necessaries of life”.36
Mill says even the problems of the least optimal kind of communism
would be “as dust in the balance” compared to the injustices of
contemporary capitalism, and emphasizes the inhumanity and cruelty of
capitalism when he likens the current economic system to a race declared

by an evil Roman Emperor in which those “who came hindermost” would
be put to death: “it would not be any diminution of the injustice,” Mill
insists, “that the strongest or nimblest would … be certain to escape. The
misery and the crime would be that any were put to death at all”. 37
Mill also criticized contemporary capitalism for not even achieving the
kind of justice it was designed to produce: the laws of private property,
under contemporary capitalism, did not guarantee the laborer the fruits of
his labor, but instead “have made property of things which never ought to
be property, and absolute property where only a qualified property ought
to exist. They have not held the balance fairly between human beings, but
have heaped impediments upon some, to give advantage to others; they
have purposely fostered inequalities, and prevented all from starting fair in
the race.”38 Mill does not think that private property is necessarily unjust–
indeed, he recognizes that it can be founded on an important claim of
justice (securing for the laborer the fruit of his labor), though the current
system of capitalism has done all it can to exacerbate the worst potential
consequences of capitalism: inequality, poverty, injustice–but he endorses
non-capitalistic principles of justice (such as “from each according to his
capacities; to each according to his needs”) as “higher” than those
capitalism could possibly achieve.39
Of course, Mill does not seem to have thought that all these problems
were inherent in the very nature of capitalism: he is, in part, criticizing
legislation as having exacerbated the problems of capitalism. 40 And, as
noted above, capitalism evidently has many advantages over feudalism,
and is not guilty of all the charges socialists level at it. On the other hand,
there are potential inequalities and injustices built into capitalism. As Mill
notes, “[t]hat all should … start on perfectly equal terms, is inconsistent
with any law of private property”, and this is something he sees as an
inherent problem. 41 He also criticizes what might seem to be fair
distributions of income under capitalism–for instance, piece-work–as
ultimately unjust as they give more to those who already have most. 42
Though some of his criticisms, therefore, are leveled at problems caused
by current systems of capitalism, some are inherent in capitalism itself.
Capitalism, then–even an ideal form of capitalism–leads to inequality
and social injustice. Although Mill suggests ways of improving capitalism,
and thinks this would be the best thing to do immediately (rather than
instantly implement full-scale socialism), this is no longer the “last word”
in social improvement. Instead, Mill wants to radically alter social,
political and economic institutions such that “the division of produce of
labour … will be made by concert, on an acknowledged principle of
14 Chapter One
justice”, and everyone will do their fair share in bearing the burdens of
social co-operation: to transcend capitalism, that is, and adopt a form of
socialism.43
Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds

of Inefficiency and Waste
Although Mill disagreed with some socialists that competition was
inefficient, he criticized capitalism as being inefficient for other reasons.44
Mill thought that wage-labor under capitalism was prone to be unproductive,
which is why he supported profit-sharing schemes and worker-owned-and-
managed co-operatives.45 He also criticized the inefficiency of distribution
in contemporary capitalism, with the profit of “mere distributors” taking
an “enormous portion of the produce of industry”, and saw communistic
modes of living, and organizing buying and selling, as much more
efficient, as were co-operative wholesalers which cut-out middlemen. 46
Lastly, Mill criticized capitalism for the “prodigious inequality with
which” the benefits of “unproductive labour” (such as the arts and luxury
goods) are distributed, “the little worth of the objects to which the greater
part of it is devoted, and the large share which falls to the lot of persons
who render no equivalent service in return”, which, he says, “are not
incapable of being remedied”. 47 Although there is a strong egalitarian
element to this criticism, there is also an efficiency criticism, too–labor is
being wasted on items “of little worth”, and the benefits of it being spread
less widely than they might be.
Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds

of the Relentless Pursuit of Growth
Mill’s predecessors in political economy had believed that society was
inexorably progressing towards a “stationary state” in which there would
be no further progress in technology, capital, “the productive arts” or
wealth.48 Life for the poor, in particular, in this state would be parlous.49
Radically, Mill rejected this view.50 Indeed, Mill felt it would be “on the
whole, a very considerable improvement on our present condition”.51 Mill
criticizes the relentless pursuit of riches which characterizes contemporary
capitalist society–what he calls the “struggling to get on” by the
“trampling, crushing, elbowing and treading on each other’s heels which
form the existing type of our social life”–and says that, although, if we are
going to relentlessly pursue riches, it would be better if everyone had an
equal opportunity to do it, it would be better still if, “while no one is poor,
no one desires to be richer, nor has any reasons to fear being thrust back,
by the efforts of others to push themselves forward”. 52 Moreover, Mill
criticizes the very metric of success against which capitalist societies (and
the people within them) measure themselves, saying “I know not why it
should be a matter of congratulation that persons who are already richer
than any one needs to be, should have doubled their means of consuming
things which give little or no pleasure except as representative of wealth:
or that numbers of individuals should pass over, every year, from the
middle classes into a richer class, or from the class of the occupied rich to
that of the unoccupied”. 53 Indeed, he insists we need, not “increased
production”, but “a better distribution”.54 Thus, one aspect of his criticism
of capitalism is for its focus on economic growth–it leads to an
undesirable form of society which is over-competitive and which pitches
people against each other in a struggle to survive, whilst pursuing
unworthy goals and ignoring what is really needed for social justice and
efficiency.
There is also a second element to Mill’s criticisms of capitalism on the
grounds of its relentless pursuit of growth, which might be thought of as
proto-environmentalist concerns.55 Mill writes passionately and eloquently
about the paucity of a world with “nothing left to the spontaneous activity
of nature; with every rood of land brought into cultivation, which is
capable of growing food for human beings; every flowery waste or natural
pasture ploughed up, all quadrupeds or birds which are not domesticated
for man’s use exterminated as his rivals for food, every hedgerow or
superfluous tree rooted out, and scarcely a place left where a wild shrub or
flower could grow without being eradicated as a weed in the name of
improved agriculture.” 56 Capitalism’s relentless pursuit of growth could
lead to this non-diverse landscape, and this is another reason Mill
criticizes it.57
Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds of Social

Harmony and the Social Ethos
As already mentioned, Mill disliked the “trampling, crushing [and]
elbowing” of people by their fellow-men that he believed capitalism, with
its relentless pursuit of growth, entailed. 58 This also speaks to Mill’s
critique of capitalism on the grounds of its negative impact on social
harmony (indeed, its rendering social harmony impossible); and its
encouragement of selfishness, class-struggle and class-antagonism.59 Mill
disparages the competitive, selfish egoism which capitalism both lauds
and creates, seeking to heal the divisions of contemporary society through
16 Chapter One
an end not just to class warfare, but to classes themselves; the adoption of
a new social ethos inspired by a “Religion of Humanity”; the embrace of
the public good by all as not just good political policy (though it would be
that) but as a motivating inspiration for their actions and goals; and a
friendliness in what remained of commercial relationships between co-
operatives.60
It is also worth noting in this context Mill’s conception of history as
moving between “organic” and “critical” ages, which was explained
above. Although knowing the contemporary “critical” age in which he
lived to be vital for human progress, Mill disliked certain aspects of all
critical ages, and desired the harmonious aspects of an organic age (though
not the potentially stultifying ones).61
Mill’s Suggestions for Improving Capitalism

It should be clear from the fore-going discussion that Mill had criticisms
both of capitalism as it contemporaneously existed, and of capitalism per
se. We might, however, improve the current system of capitalism–and if
we were to, the problems with communism would no longer clearly be “as
dust in the balance”.62
These improvements to capitalism would include stricter controls on
inheritance (though not on what one might bequeath)–a proposal with its
roots in Mill’s philosophical-radicalism–such that no one could inherit any
more than would keep themselves (and only themselves–not a wife and
children) without their having to work. 63 They would include profit-
sharing schemes such as those described in detail in Principles, which in-
themselves would do something to heal class antagonism and improve
inter-class relationships, as well as improving productivity.64 They would
involve reforms to tariffs, taxes and systems of inherited privilege and
nepotism, as well as political reforms (including representative
government elected by universal suffrage), implementation of the “harm
principle” as the basis for government interference in individual liberty;
national provision of education free for those whose parents could not
otherwise afford it; and public health initiatives.65 The intention regarding
private property would be towards equal, widespread and generally small
holdings, with inequalities of wealth depending as much as possible on
individual talent, effort and choice.66 There would also be some welfare
provision, particularly for those unable to work, balanced against (to
modern eyes, at least) fairly draconian laws regarding marriage and
concerning the treatment of able-bodied, unemployed people of child-
conceiving age, in order to keep the population rate in check.67 Instead of
the relentless pursuit of growth, we might achieve a happy “stationary

state”, and cultivate “the Art of Life”.68
This “perfected” capitalism would look very different to not only
Mill’s contemporary capitalist society, but our own, which is characterized
by vast inequality; ownership of capital concentrated in very few hands;
wage-labor; inherited wealth, and economic and social class, dictating to a
great degree one’s life-chances; and a very unequal distribution of leisure
and access to the arts and education (even for those people living in
countries where previous governments have implemented some social-
democratic policies). (And where, outside of China, at least, we do not
have much direct government control of the birth-rate.)
It seems plausible to think that this “perfected” capitalism would be the
best Mill thought his contemporary critical age could hope to become.69 It
is also easy to believe that Mill would have preferred this to communism,
because of communism’s potentially negative effects on individuality. It is
less plausible, though, to think that this “perfected” capitalism is Mill’s
“Utopia”.
It might be possible to conceive of a capitalism not only with no
welfare payments for those who are unemployed but fit for work, but also
with no owners of capital (except those who have retired on the proceeds
of their previous labor) living off the proceeds from it, but actively
working with it (but where there would be no ability to live off inherited
capital)–which is one element of Mill’s preferred future state.70 Similarly,
one might argue that Mill accepts that private property is under-pinned
(though not as it currently exists) by a principle of justice; and one might
also think that the “benefits of combined labour” he wishes all to enjoy
might include wage-laboring.71
I think this would be to misread these passages, however, for it is not
possible to conceive of a form of capitalism in which the division of the
product of labor is determined “by concert, on an acknowledged principle
of justice”; where there is also “common ownership in the raw material of
the globe” which means not only natural resources such as mineral and
fuel resources, but land; where some of that “common ownership” is
administered by the state, and some through producer- and consumer-
cooperatives; where there would be no class system; and where people
would be united in a common endeavor for the public, general good, and
not motivated by self-interest or narrow, partisan, class, or familial
interests. This, instead, looks like socialism.72
Moreover, it looks like socialism not merely on Mill’s fairly narrow
account as provided in Principles (communal ownership of the means of
production, but not articles of consumption), but on a thicker conception,
18 Chapter One
where as well as involving communal ownership, we think socialism has

to be concerned with the “social”; where action is coordinated across the
community to aim at the common good; and where classes (and, therefore,
class antagonisms) would be eradicated in favor of social harmony,
egalitarianism and respect. 73 Mill’s critical re-assessment of capitalism,
therefore, led him not only to criticize contemporary forms of capitalism,
but to prefer socialism even to a “perfected” capitalism for the
forthcoming organic age.
Mill’s Critical Assessment of Capitalism:

A Brief Conclusion
Mill, then, though he was well-embedded in classical, laissez-faire
political economy, was not uncritical of capitalism, and eschewed some of
the assumptions–particularly concerning the possibilities of future social
improvement and (re)organisation–held by both his predecessors and
contemporaries. His changing beliefs led him to criticize both
contemporary capitalist institutions and even an ideal form of capitalism
on the grounds of liberty and independence; equality and social justice;
inefficiency and waste; the relentless pursuit of growth; and social
harmony and to develop a form of co-operative socialism which, he hoped,
would avoid the problems of both capitalism and currently-developed
forms of socialism. In the next section I will turn to the “road” Mill
thought we might take to this organic socialist “Utopia.”
Mill’s Account of the “Road” to Socialism

Mill briefly sketches a ‘road’ to socialism near the end of ‘On the Probable
Futurity…’, which he expanded to include discussion of co-operation and
a socialist transformation of society in 1852. 74 The working classes, he
says, are increasingly unwilling to be kept in positions of dependence,
inequality and powerlessness. 75 They are agitating, coming together in
political movements, and campaigning publically for radical changes in
society, which they will be able to more-easily enforce once they are
granted the franchise (as they ought to be).76 They will demand a more just
society, with a more just division of the produce of labor and the benefits
of modern industry.77 As a part of this, they will demand re-organization
of industrial relations.78
On the other side of the current divide between workers and capitalists,
many capitalists are already recognizing that they get more out of their
workers, and thereby increase their profits, when they share profits–and
management–with their employees.79 In time, Mill thinks, all employers

will see the wisdom of profit-sharing, and will not be able to get any but
the worst, and therefore least-productive and skilled, workers to agree to
anything less.80
But what Mill views as the best part of the laboring classes–those he
praises for courage, resourcefulness, an independent spirit and rigorous
self-discipline–are already going well beyond profit-sharing schemes
where the means of production are still owned, and almost all decisions
still made, by capitalists, into “organisations of the labourers themselves”
in (particularly producer-)co-operatives, and it is these kinds of industrial
organization which Mill sees as the means of achieving social justice.81
Mill was convinced that such co-operatives would prove themselves
more efficient, making better quality, cheaper goods and providing so
many more benefits to their members in terms of independence, respect,
self-respect and justice that everyone who was capable of joining or
forming one would do so.82 Cooperatives would get rid of the need for
middle-men (particularly in distribution).83 They would be democratically-
run, and divide the surplus of their labor according to principles of justice
agreed upon by all members (male and female).84 If people did not like the
co-operative for which they worked, they could join another one, or set up
their own, once they had saved the requisite capital–they could not take
their capital out of a co-op once they had joined, and if the co-op was
disbanded (when, for instance, everyone wished to retire), the accumulated
joint capital would have to be given to charitable causes.85 Thus, by slow
degrees, the market would be transformed.86 True, the cooperatives would
compete amongst each other, thus helping increase efficiency and the
development of new technologies and production-methods, but there
would be no competition in the labor-market, and therefore less strife
amongst men, and the cooperatives might well not trade at a profit, but at
cost price (though Mill acknowledges this might be hard to determine).87
The kind of competition he foresees still existing is not the “trampling,
crushing [and] elbowing” of contemporary life, but “[a] contest, who can
do most for the common good”.88
In this state of things, capitalists (Mill is still thinking of relatively
small-scale personal holdings of capital) will see that they will get a better
return for their investment by investing in cooperatives than in wage-
paying industrial concerns (Mill was always insistent that capital deserved
a reasonable return when lent, as it represented the past prudence of its
owner), and, eventually, they might even exchange their capital for an
annuity. 89 In this way, he writes, “the existing accumulation of capital
might honestly, and by a kind of spontaneous process, become in the end
20 Chapter One
the joint property of all who participate in their productive employment: a

transformation which, thus effected, (and assuming of course that both
sexes participate equally in the rights and in the government of the
association) would be the nearest approach to social justice, and the most
beneficial ordering of industrial affairs for the university good, which it is
possible at present to foresee”.90
Alongside this “spontaneous” transformation of private ownership of
most of the means of production, there would have to be some state action,
for Mill also desired the state-ownership (on the part of the people) of land
and natural resources, as well as state (either through national or local
government) provision of goods and services which tended to monopoly,
thus allowing everyone to share the benefit of monopoly profits–for
example, utilities, street-lighting, public health, education (though not
exclusively) and railways.91 Property-owners, Mill argued, must be fairly
compensated for the loss of property it was not illegal to them have owned
at the time, but the fact that people did now have private property rights
over, for instance, land, was not enough reason to prevent those rights
being changed, and even denied, by government. 92 After all, property
rights are part of the laws of distribution, and these are human
constructions–and, as such, can be legitimately re-constructed by
humans.93 There would also have to be legislation regarding inheritance,
for Mill continued to favor limits to intergenerational bequests to no more
than a “moderate independence”, whatever the express wishes of the
testator–though, of course, the problem of inheritance (or at least the
inheritance of large amount of wealth, leading to great inequality) would
in any case be partly solved by nationalization of land, and by capitalists
exchanging their capital for an annuity, and thus having none to leave to
their children.94
As well as this, first and foremost, there would have to be a change in
education (broadly understood), and the resultant change in human nature,
which would make any of this possible and sustainable.95 However, Mill
evidently thought that participation in cooperatives, in profit-sharing
schemes, and in national and local democratic proceedings all counted as a
vital part of the necessary education.96 People might also be helped along
by social structures such as a “Religion of Humanity”, which would help
shape the requisite social ethos, as well as a tolerant concern for each
other’s welfare as advocated in Liberty. 97 The “road” to socialism,
therefore, would be built step-by-step by people who became more
capable of realizing it the further down the “road” they travelled.
Conclusion
Mill’s adoption of the Saint-Simonian conception of history, coinciding as
it did with his loss of faith in the efficacy of philosophical-radical reforms
to actually maximize happiness, led Mill to critically reassess
contemporary capitalism (of which, of course philosophic-radicalism was
not wholly uncritical), to suggest improvements to it, and to transcend
even this “perfected” capitalism such that the forth-coming “organic” age,
if it managed to achieve his “Utopia”, would be a form of socialism. This
was something he not only thought desirable, but also at least possible, if
not probable (and Principles and the Autobiography suggest Mill did think
the future would be a socialist one, even if it was not going to be precisely
his preferred form of socialism).98 He criticized capitalism on the grounds
of liberty and independence; equality and social justice; inefficiency and
waste; relentless pursuit of growth; and social harmony and social ethos.
Some of these criticisms might be overcome through “perfecting”
capitalism–but many and, arguably, the most important, such as injustice,
inequality, inefficiency, waste, the social ethos, and social harmony–could
not be wholly remedied within a capitalist framework. Thus, Mill preferred
a form of socialism for future society, which there has not been the space
to fully describe here, though key institutions, at least, have been sketched.
He foresaw the change to the socialist future (whether identical to his
preferred form, or not) as being both possible and probable via a “road” of
gradual, peaceful, organic, grass-roots led, democratic, piece-meal change,
which would in itself provide the necessary education to make such a
change not only possible but sustainable.
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1826 (London: 1826).
Baum, Bruce, “J.S. Mill’s Conception of Economic Freedom”, History of
Political Thought, 20/3 (1999), pp. 494-530.
Berki, R.N., Socialism (London: J.M. Dent and Sons Ltd, 1975).
Claeys, Gregory. Mill and Paternalism (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2014).
Kurer, Oscar, John Stuart Mill: The Politics of Progress (London: Garland
Press, 1991).
—. ‘J.S. Mill and Utopian Socialism’, The Economic Record, 68/202
(1992), pp. 222-32.
22 Chapter One
McCabe, Helen, “John Stuart Mill’s Philosophy of Persuasion”, Informal

Logic 34/1 (2014).
—. ““Under the General Designation of Socialist”: The Many-Sided
Radicalism of John Stuart Mill”, unpublished doctoral thesis (Oxford:
2011).
Mill, John Stuart, Autobiography and Literary Essays, Collected Works I
(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1981).
—. Principles of Political Economy, Collected Works II and III (Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, 1963).
—. The Claims of Labour, Collected Works IV (Toronto: University of
Toronto Press, 1967).
—. Chapters on Socialism, Collected Works V (Toronto: University of
—. Newman’s Political Economy, Collected Works V (Toronto:
—. A System of Logic, Collected Works VIII (Toronto: University of
—. Coleridge, Collected Works X (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,
1969).
—. Three Essays on Religion, Collected Works X (Toronto: University of
—. Early Letters, CW XII (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1963).
—. On Marriage, Collected Works XXI (Toronto, University of Toronto
Press, 1984).
—. The Spirit of the Age, Collected Works XXII (Toronto: University of
—. “Co-operation: Closing Speech,” Collected Works XXVI (Toronto:
—. On Liberty, CW XVIII (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1977).
Robson, J.M., “Textual Introduction”, Collected Works II (Toronto:
Sarvasy, Wendy, “A Reconsideration of the Development and Structure of
John Stuart Mill’s Socialism”, The Western Political Quarterly, 38/2
(June, 1985), pp. 312-33.
Notes

1
John Stuart Mill, Principles of Political Economy, Collected Works II and III
(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1965), pp.203-214 and 758-96.
2
Mill, Principles, pp.203-214.
3
Ibid., pp.753-971.

4
Mill, Autobiography, CW I (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1981), p.239;
J.M. Robson, “Textual Introduction”, CW II, pp.lxv-lxvii. Almost all Mill scholars
who have considered his socialism tend to think he was not really ever a socialist,
or that he ceased to be one after 1852. I agree with Oscar Kurer’s analysis of the
implausibility of these views (despite their contemporary persistence), though I
disagree with Kurer on regarding Mill’s socialism as ‘utopian’ (notwithstanding
Mill’s use of the word in connection with his socialist thought), and in that Kurer
does not include in his account the state actions and management of communally-
owned property (particularly in land) which forms an important aspect of Mill’s
preferred socialist institutions (as Wendy Sarvasy rightly notes), his laisser-faire
commitments, and general decentralisationism, notwithstanding. Oscar Kurer,
John Stuart Mill: The Politics of Progress, (London: Garland Press 1991), pp.33-
59 and ‘J.S. Mill and Utopian Socialism’, The Economic Record, 68/202 (1992),
pp.222-32; Wendy Sarvasy, “A Reconsideration of the Development and Structure
of John Stuart Mill’s Socialism”, The Western Political Quarterly, 38/2 (1985),
p.313; McCabe, ““Under the General Designation of Socialist”: The Many-Sided
Radicalism of John Stuart Mill”, unpublished doctoral thesis (Oxford: 2011),
pp.273-88.
5
Kurer, Politics of Progress, pp.37-49.
6
Mill, The Claims of Labour, CW IV (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,
1967), p.382; Mill, Principles, pp.758-796; Mill, Autobiography, CW I (Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, 1981), p.239.
7
Mill, On Marriage, CW XXI (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984),
pp.35-49; Mill, The Subjection of Women, CW XXI, pp.259-340; Mill, Three
Essays on Religion, CW X (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1969), pp.369-
489; Mill, Coleridge, CW X, pp.147-48; Mill, Autobiography, p.239.
8
Mill, Autobiography, pp.107-9.
9
Ibid., p.111.
10
Mill, Autobiography, p.127; “W.E.H.”, The Co-operative Magazine and
Monthly Herald, February 1826 (London: 1826) p.56; Mill, “Co-operation:
Closing Speech,” CW XXVI (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1988), pp.315-
23.
11
Mill, Autobiography, pp.171-3 and 239.
12
Ibid., pp.171-3.
13
Mill, Autobiography, pp.171-3 Mill, Letter 28, to d’Eichthal, 7 November 1829,
CW XII (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1986), p.42. This acceptance is also
very clear in his use of “transitional” and “natural” to describe the stages of history
in The Spirit of the Age. Mill, The Spirit of the Age, I, II, III, IV and V, CW XXII
(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1986), pp.227-35, 238-46, 252-8, 278-83,
289-95, 304-7 and 312-7. Mill acknowledges that these ideas had already been
formulated by people other than the Saint-Simonians – “they were the general
property of Europe”–but he insists that “they had never ... been so completely
systematised as by these writers, nor the distinguishing characteristics of a critical
period so powerfully set forth”. Mill, Autobiography, pp.171-3.
14
Mill, Autobiography, p.173.
24 Chapter One

15
Ibid.
16
Ibid.
17
Ibid.
18
Ibid.
19
Ibid.
20
McCabe, “John Stuart Mill’s Philosophy of Persuasion”, Informal Logic 34/1
(2014), pp.38-61; Sarvasy, “John Stuart Mill’s Socialism”, pp.312-13.
21
Mill, Claims, pp.365-82; Mill, Principles, pp.758-62.
22
Mill, Principles, pp.203-14; Mill, Chapters, pp.727-36.
23
Sarvasy concentrates on Mill’s criticism of class conflict, and his account of
workers’ desire for independence. Kurer also notes Mill’s criticisms of capitalism
on the grounds of “breeding egoism and class conflict”; inequality; and “because it
did not allow for the full development of individuality”. I think these account,
though good in themselves, are incomplete. Sarvasy, “Mill’s Socialism”, p.315;
Kurer, Politics of Progress, pp.35-36.
24
Mill, On Liberty, CW XVIII (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1977),
pp.223.
25
26
Mill, Principles, p.209.
27
Ibid.
28
Ibid.
29
Ibid.
30
Ibid., pp.758-96.
31
Ibid., p.759.
32
Bruce Baum, “J.S. Mill’s Conception of Economic Freedom”, History of
Political Thought, 20/3 (1999), pp.494-530; Kurer, Politics of Progress, p.36.
33
As noted, Kurer also points to this as one of the grounds of Mill’s criticism of
capitalism, but only “because the ‘distinction between rich and poor’ was only
“slightly connected … with merit and demerit’ [and] ‘such a feature could not be
put into the rudest imaginings of a perfectly just state of society’”. These certainly
are grounds upon which Mill criticized the injustice of capitalism, but not the only
ones. Kurer, Politics of Progress, p.35.
34
35
Ibid., p.207.
36
Ibid.
37
Ibid., p.213; Mill, Chapters, p.713.
38
39
Ibid., p.203.
40
Ibid., p.207.
41
Ibid., p.207.
42
Ibid., p.210.
43
Mill, Autobiography, p.239; Mill, Principles, p.758.
44
Mill, Principles, pp.794-5 and 753.
45
Ibid., pp.204-05 and 769-94.
46
Ibid., pp.204 and 791.

47
Ibid., p.54.
48
Ibid., pp.752-3.
49
Ibid.
50
Ibid., pp.753-4.
51
Ibid., pp.754.
52
Ibid. This is one reason that, though Mill endorses a market in consumable
goods under his preferred socialist system, he eschews the labor-market.
53
54
Ibid.
55
Ibid., p.756. I say ‘proto-environmentalist’ because Mill offers arguments in
support of ‘green’ initiatives such as protecting diversity of species and habitats;
protecting open space from development; and allowing access to undomesticated
‘wilderness’ on human-centric, and utilitarian, bases, rather than as being goods in
their own right.
56
57
Ibid., p.755-6.
58
Ibid., p.754.
59
Mill, Claims, pp.379-82; Mill, Principles, p.754; Kurer, Politics of Progress,
p.36.
60
Mill, Principles, p.753; Mill, Claims, p.379; Mill, Utility of Religion, p.422;
Kurer, Politics of Progress, p.36; Sarvasy, “Mill’s Socialism”, pp.314-
61
Mill, Utility of Religion, p.422.
62
Mill, Principles, p.207.; Gregory Claeys, Mill and Paternalism (Cambridge;
Cambridge University Press, 2014), pp. 71-77.
63
Ibid., pp.218-26.
64
65
Ibid., pp.947-50; Mill, On Liberty, pp.301-303.
66
Ibid., pp.207-208.
67
Ibid., pp.355-60; 367-76; 728, 763-65; Mill, Claims, p.375; Mill, On Liberty,
pp.304-305.
68
Ibid., pp.752-57; Mill, A System of Logic, CW VIII (Toronto: University of
Toronto Press, 1974), p.949.
69
Kurer identifies it with Mill’s pre-1852 “Utopia” as described in Claims and
early editions of Principles. Sarvasy calls it ‘prefiguring’ (full) socialism. There is
certainly much to be said for both ideas, though I do not think Kurer’s description
of this early “Utopia” is full-enough, and nor do I think that wholly encapsulates
Mill’s “Utopia” pre-1852. Kurer, Politics of Progress, p.53; Sarvasy, “Mill’s
Socialism”, pp.312-13.
70
71
Mill, Principles, pp.207-208; Mill, Autobiography, p.239.
72
As Sarvasy notes, public distribution of the surplus of labor combined with
common ownership is a key claim of socialism and is incompatible with
capitalism. Sarvasy, “Mill’s Socialism”, p.315.
73
Ibid., pp.202-203; R.N. Berki, Socialism (London: J.M. Dent and Sons, 1975),
pp.9 and 23-29.
26 Chapter One

74
75
Ibid., p.763.
76
Ibid.
77
Ibid.
78
Ibid.
79
Ibid., p.769-75.
80
Ibid., p.793.
81
Ibid., pp.793-94.
82
Ibid., p.793.
83
Ibid.
84
Ibid., pp.793-94.
85
Ibid., pp.783-84; Kurer, Politics of Progress, pp.50-51.
86
87
Ibid., p.795; Mill, Newman’s Political Economy, CW V, p.446.
88
Mill, Principles, p.205 and 754.
89
Ibid., p.793.
90
Ibid., pp.793-4.
91
Ibid., pp.230-32, 801 and 947-56.
92
Ibid., pp.230-32.
93
Ibid.
94
Ibid., p.755.
95
96
97
Mill, Essays on Religion, p.422-28; Mill, On Liberty, pp.223-24.
98
Mill, Principles, pp.793-94; Mill, Autobiography, p.239.
CHAPTER TWO
“THE RIGHT TO ASPIRE TO EVERYTHING”:

ENTERING THE CAPITALIST ECONOMY
IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY FRANCE
EMILY C. TEISING
Young men emerging from the French educational system in the 1830s
only wanted to be doctors and lawyers, according to a critique in the
Figaro newspaper. Any other useful profession, they considered a failure,
the article complained in response to a March 1837 debate in the Chamber
of Deputies. In that debate, François Arago, a scientist and politician,
argued that Latin and Greek should be replaced by math, or at the very
least, by instruction in modern languages. The poet and legislator
Alphonse de Lamartine argued in support of a greater emphasis on
literature and languages. In its commentary the Figaro criticized the
educational system, saying that it engendered ambitions that would most
likely be disappointed. Tongue-in-cheek it continued, saying that if you
teach Latin to the son of a baker, whom nature has made a baker, there
will come a time when he will be nothing at all.1 Indeed, at this time an
increasing number of young men, attracted by the promise of prestige and
wealth, followed their ambitions to law school. In 1830, there were 3,500
students enrolled in law school in France. By 1838, that number had risen
to 5,300. 2 The Ministre de l’instruction publique Narcisse-Achille de
Salvandy attributed the increase to a generalized tendency toward upward
social mobility spurred by the Revolution of 1830.
And yet, as the Figaro reminded readers, a greater accessibility to a
range of professions did not guarantee that everyone who set out on such a
path would succeed in climbing the social ladder. A number of novels
published in the 1830s and 1840s, including some by Honoré de Balzac,
George Sand and Emile Souvestre that we will explore here, found their
plots in the struggles of characters of modest backgrounds to change their
circumstances through education and a new profession. A number of them
28 Chapter Two
belonged to the petite bourgeoisie, or even the lesser nobility. Many of

these characters aspired to become lawyers. 3 Those who succeeded in
establishing a steady and upscale clientele could hope to join the top one
percent of most highly compensated professionals, earning ten to twelve
times more than the bottom 50 percent of the workforce.4 Indeed, financial
gain is a primary motivation for Eugène de Rastignac in Balzac’s Le Père
Goriot (1835) and for Antoine Larry in Souvestre’s Riche et Pauvre
(1836). In Simon (1835) and Horace (1840), George Sand focuses on
aptitude, dedication and individual desire as reasons for choosing a
profession, as well as economic motivation.
To what extent do these novels express the belief that political and
social change in the first part of the nineteenth century had actually
transformed the stakes of choosing a profession? Was it sufficient, as Sand
and the writer Edouard Charton, author of Guide pour le choix d’un état;
ou, Dictionnaire des Professions (1842) seem to suggest, to follow one’s
desires, working hard and gaining an education? Or was a significant
amount of capital in the form of inheritance and a noble birth a
prerequisite? Thomas Piketty, in Le Capital au XXI Siècle, used the ex-
convict Vautrin’s speech to Rastignac in Le Père Goriot to delve into his
analysis of chasing an inheritance as a more effective strategy for
accumulating wealth than work.5 In analyzing Vautrin’s speech, Piketty
formulates the following question: what can an individual achieve by
virtue of his inheritance, and what can he achieve through hard work?
Piketty answers that individuals in the top one percent in terms of riches
gained through inheritance were significantly wealthier than the top one
percent of those whose income came from their work, validating Vautrin’s
assessment that Rastignac would be better off marrying rich than going to
law school.6 Given the increasing number of students in law school, there
were clearly still a great many young people who believed in the
possibilities of such an education.
Economic capital in a restricted sense, whether money or property,
inherited or earned, could not alone account for an individual’s choice of a
profession, or his success in that chosen profession. This was especially
true in the case of a profession like that of avocat, which depends on
establishing a network of individuals at the Palais de Justice to refer
clients, the temperament to endure setbacks, and a fortune to sustain the
young avocat until he had built his reputation. Further analysis of Balzac’s
work, and novels by Souvestre and Sand, who were also great observers of
the social mores of this era, reveal their belief that social and cultural
capital—not just economic capital—played a central role in the choice to
pursue one profession over another, and the relative success of those who
Entering the Capitalism Economy in Nineteenth-Century France 29
made these choices. By joining literary analysis with Piketty’s

observations and Pierre Bourdieu’s theory on “The Forms of Capital,”7 we
can gain a deeper understanding of the cultural, social and economic
mechanisms at work. According to “The Forms of Capital,” cultural and
social capital will influence the individual’s ability to accumulate greater
economic capital through labor. The novels analyzed here insist on the
importance of cultural and social capital. Literature provides insight into
these questions by imagining the influence of forms of capital less easily
measured by economists. An exploration of these novels by Balzac, Sand
and Souvestre will analyze some nineteenth-century beliefs about how
different forms of capital, particularly education and social connections,
could influence an individual’s professional trajectory.
In an era when the receding limitations of rank and birth ostensibly
imposed fewer restrictions on young men’s opportunities for raising their
economic and social status than under the Old Regime, individuals of
modest means could give freer rein to their individual ambitions.
Alongside this greater range of activities, an evolution of personal and
political identities was linked to increased pressure on men to measure
their worth in terms of their economic success.8 In addition to fictional
texts, new non-fiction texts explored concerns about achieving such
success and finding one’s place in society during the July Monarchy.
Reference guides advised parents and their children on handling the
responsibilities that accompanied the new opportunities to choose a
profession accessible through education, even when a lack of wealth or
connections would previously have placed it out of reach. One such guide,
Charton’s Guide pour le choix d’un état expresses optimism about young
men’s ability to join a profession previously considered unattainable:
Each citizen has the right to aspire to everything, and this right is not an
absolute fiction: for admission (to the profession) it is sufficient to attain a
level of education that is within reach, likely not of the majority, but of an
already considerable minority. From this starting point, which is like a
second birth, the chances are more or less the same for all and, in the
absence of wealth, one can succeed through study, talent, and a persistent
desire.9
The change Charton compares to “a second birth,” is clearly momentous.

In a guide that listed nearly 300 professions from accoucheur
(obstetrician) to vétérinaire (veterinarian), passing by banker, engineer,
judge and sculptor, Charton started with the premise that they were open
to all. He set three conditions for choosing a profession. It should “procure
that which is necessary to fulfill basic material needs, it should nurture
30 Chapter Two
one’s intellectual and moral faculties, and be useful to society.”10 Charton

went on to underline the idea of usefulness and simplicity, valorizing
moderation and encouraging readers to pursue professions that lead to
prosperity, but not necessarily riches. A man should seek the respect, but
not the envy, of his peers. Finally, he should focus on developing his
intelligence and morality, rather than the fulfilment of passions.11 Within
these guidelines, Charton envisioned opportunities to follow one’s
aspirations as a positive development.
The Cost of an Education

With sufficient economic capital, which often ensured that a character also
possessed a high level of social and cultural capital, there was little need to
worry about the risk of discouragement and failure. Of course, in the
interest of dramatic intrigue, the heroes in the novels analyzed here never
have quite as much money as they need—or want, in any case. As young
men starting their education, these characters do not yet possess their own
fortunes. Novelists solve this problem by allowing them access to funds
from their family or in some cases, the kindness of an unrelated
benefactor. The instantaneous transferability of economic capital initially
seems to give these aspiring lawyers the support necessary to launch their
careers.
In the hope of advancing their fortunes, even families for whom such
outlays constituted a hardship willingly made the sacrifice. For context,
Old Goriot lives on 500 francs a year, approximately the average income
for his era, but an absolute misery in Balzac’s world.12 Rastignac, who
comes to Paris in 1819 to study law, squanders more than twice that
amount. From an annual income of 3,000 francs brought in by the family’s
property, Rastignac’s mother, father, two brothers and two sisters, manage
to spare 1,200 francs each year for him. In George Sand’s eponymous
novel, Horace Dumontet’s family was not noble like Rastignac’s, but
possessed a similar level of income. The bulk of the Dumontet family’s
income comes in the form of a 3,000 franc annuity from his mother’s
inheritance, with another 1,500 francs from his father’s employment as a
provincial administrator. Acceding to the vanity of her husband and afraid
of appearing backward and lacking faith in the promises of the Revolution,
Mme Dumontet, relinquishes the 10,000 francs she had saved for her
daughter’s dowry so that her son can pursue his education in Paris.
In two other novels, Sand’s Simon and Souvestre’s Riche et Pauvre,
the main characters, who come from families of more modest means and
have their education paid for by outside benefactors, are also more
assiduous in their studies than Rastignac or Horace. Without any kind of

family inheritance to fall back on, their only hope for future financial
security lies in professional success. Antoine, the aspiring lawyer in Riche
et Pauvre, is born to a gunsmith in Rennes. A few months before the
gunsmith’s death, he saves a young boy from being gored by a bull. The
boy, Arthur Boissard, belongs to a wealthy and elite family. In gratitude,
Mme Boissard assumes financial responsibility for Antoine’s education
when his father dies. Antoine and Arthur both excel in school, and they
both enroll in law school at the same time. They seem, at this time, to have
equal opportunities to succeed.
Simon, the son of a poor laborer, is also fatherless when we meet him,
and his godfather steps in as his benefactor. Before this time, Simon and
his mother live off of the 1,200 francs a year given to her by her brother, a
priest. His mother uses this money to educate Simon, who realizes early
on that he is not meant to follow in his father’s footsteps: “The village
school had sufficed to teach Simon that he was destined to live from his
intelligence, not from manual labor.”13 He takes out loans to attend law
school in Poitiers, but aspires to complete his education in Paris. Parquet,
Simon’s godfather and an avoué, recognizes his godson’s potential and
says to him, “You are destined to forge your own path,” as he hands over
ten thousand francs to fund the young man’s studies.14 Although her hero
is pursuing a profession known for leading to fame and fortune, Sand
frames the journey of Simon, a dedicated republican, as a quest for
knowledge and to fulfill his destiny rather than a pursuit of material wealth
and recognition. Despite their differing family backgrounds, all five,
Rastignac, Horace, Antoine, Arthur and Simon, pursue legal studies,
Antoine and Arthur in Rennes and the others in Paris. The authors have
provided their heroes with similar financial resources, but do they believe
that the characters they created have an equal chance at success?
Can He Dance?
In Riche et Pauvre, Souvestre15 set up a social experiment comparing the
trajectories of Arthur, who was born into wealth and then well educated,
and Antoine, who is born into relative poverty but receives the same
formal education as his wealthier counterpart. Both study at the Collège
Royal de Rennes. Both receive numerous honors upon graduation,
although Arthur does win more than Antoine.16 And yet, in spite of the
great advantages he could reap from his education, the experience is not a
happy one for Antoine. “Deprived of the earliest instruction, that children
of a certain class receive by listening to the conversation of their educated
32 Chapter Two
parents, he was forced to suffer the shame of his ignorance, as he had

suffered the shame of his ragged clothes,” writes Souvestre.17 From the
very beginning of the novel, therefore, Souvestre suggests that as a child
of the people, with a working class background, some of the obstacles
Antoine faces may be insurmountable.
Unlike economic capital, cultural capital—such as the educated
conversations Antoine never hears growing up—is not instantaneously
transferable, and takes time and effort to accumulate. Economic capital
could assist in the accumulation of cultural capital. Money was, after all,
required for an education, the primary form of institutionalized cultural
capital. Attending law school in Paris would have been more expensive in
Paris than in Poitiers or Rennes, due in large part to the cost of living.
Charton estimates at 1,000 francs the cost of books, enrollment in law
school, and other related expenses, plus about 2,000 francs per year for
food, lodging and other personal expenses – the minimum for one to live
“decently.” 18 Equal access to institutionalized capital (education), could
not entirely compensate for objectified or embodied forms of cultural
capital.
In the 1830s and 1840s there were nine law schools in France, but the
largest and most prestigious was in Paris. The most expensive place to live
and study, it was also the most distracting. Neither Rastignac nor Horace
has a particular dedication to the law, as evidenced in the way they spent
the money supposed to fund their studies. At the end of one year, Horace
had been to class only three times, and he had sold all of his textbooks.
Similarly, Rastignac becomes an expert on all of the leisure activities Paris
had to offer. As Balzac writes, “a student doesn’t have much time to spare
if he wants to see each theater’s repertory, study the nooks and crannies of
the Parisian labyrinth, learn the customs, study the language, and grow
used to the particular pleasures the capital offers.”19 Rastignac was gaining
an extensive education, but very little of it took place in the École de
Droit.
Such an education, Antoine could not afford. His disadvantage
compared to his wealthier contemporaries emerges starkly when Arthur
invites him to a ball. He declines, indicating that he does not know how to
dance, to which Arthur, insensitive to the struggles of those less well-off
than him, replies matter-of-factly, “Why don’t you learn?” 20 Antoine’s
mother, of course, cannot afford to pay for such a luxury, and it has not
dawned on Mme Boissard to offer. Under these circumstances, Antoine
misses out on more than a dance. He loses a valuable opportunity to build
relationships that would have helped him in his future career. Given the
fact that an income at least 20 or 30 times the average income would have
been necessary to pay for the proper attire to wear to a ball, as well as
other luxuries in the form of objectified capital such as books, musical
instruments or jewelry, Antoine would seem to have little hope of fitting
in.21 He is quickly learning that cultural capital in the form of knowledge
acquired outside of a formal education plays an essential role in accessing
society’s higher ranks.
Simon struggles less with a lack of cultural capital. The details Sand
provides about his family background do allow readers to infer that he has
greater access than Antoine to the cultural capital he would need to
succeed in school and beyond. His uncle, a priest, imparted an
appreciation for books, religion and learning, which his mother shared.
When a local noblewoman befriends Simon’s mother Jeanne, Mlle de
Fougères, a local noblewoman, remarks on the woman’s qualities: “Mlle
de Fougères was surprised by the deep sense and even by the spiritual and
naïve grace of this superior mind. She hadn’t thought it possible for so
little culture to accompany such resources.” 22 This citation echoes an
idealization of the peasantry found in many of Sand’s novels. Although
the author here describes Simon’s mother, Mlle de Fougères’s admiration
of the innate traits of a woman whose very qualities emerge from her
insulation from the type of culture that society values suggests qualities
that Simon shares.
Within the category of cultural capital, Bourdieu identified embodied
capital, which, as an integral part of a person, could take years to refine. If
not acquired at an early age, developing this non-transferable form of
capital required a great deal of sacrifice and effort devoted to self-
improvement. Rastignac arrived in Paris well-equipped with the cultural
capital necessary to engage with Parisian aristocracy. Balzac introduces
Rastignac by saying, “The manner in which he carried himself, his
manners, his usual posture were those of the son of a noble family, where
his early upbringing consisted solely of traditions in good taste.”23 Such
attitudes and behaviors resulted from his upbringing in a privileged social
class, and perhaps more importantly, allowed people who met him to
identify him as such. Balzac’s descriptions of the student underline his
noble origins, which guarantee his success in Paris in spite of his
sometimes ragged attire, typical of students of somewhat limited means.
Although he still has much to learn, he already possesses familiarity with
many of the customs he needs to fit in with the group he seeks to join.
While Rastignac benefits from familiarity with social practices and
Antoine suffers from the lack of them, Horace seems to be too blinded by
his own ambition to care about how others perceive the things he does to
fulfill those ambitions. The narrator, Horace’s friend and a focused
34 Chapter Two
medical student, critiques his vanity. When Horace attempts to enter into
Parisian society after winning 17,000 francs gambling, he does so rather
awkwardly and with excess. His friends laugh at him when he “buys a
horse, scatters gold pieces among his host’s valets, wrote to his tailor that
he inherited some money, and that the tailor should send him all of the
latest fashions.”24 He has a sense of the accoutrements required in high
society, but not the cultural capital to fit in. Two months later, the narrator
tells us, Horace is completely transfigured, having grown into his new
role: “What was most extraordinary is that he had taken on a perfectly
natural tone, and it was impossible to guess that the way he spoke was the
result of study.” 25 After abandoning the path of becoming a lawyer to
pursue literary fame, Horace even changes his name to Du Montet to
pretend to belong to the nobility. It takes time, but Horace eventually
learns to dress, speak and behave like the members of the class to which
he aspires.
In the case of Arthur and Antoine, the division between the young man
who grows up rich and the one who grows up poor becomes clear through
the contrast in their appearance and behavior. The charismatic Arthur “was
so blond, so fragile, so charming, that everyone marveled at the success of
this delicate child.” 26 His charm comes from being at ease among his
peers, whose background he shares, and his delicacy from his wealthy
origins. Antoine, for all of his hard work and self-sacrifice in school,
succeeded only in polishing some of his working class roughness; as
Souvestre notes, “education had brought some modifications to the
primitive expression of his face,” bringing a look of intelligence to his
eyes. 27 Even when he does acquire a more sophisticated wardrobe, his
apparent discomfort in his suit “indicates that he was unaccustomed to this
luxury.”28 Simply having enough money to buy a nicer suit—and this suit
was still clearly made by an inferior tailor—is not enough for Antoine to
fit in with the group he wishes to join.
Souvestre recognizes, just as Bourdieu later outlined in The Forms of
Capital, that with some difficulty, through personal sacrifice and effort, an
individual could compensate to an extent for a lack of early education. For
Antoine, this means trying to change parts of himself that most of us take
for granted. To escape his humble origins, “He had to break out violently
of the vicious molds in which his thoughts had grown accustomed to
forming; he had to battle both the habits developed in childhood and
against the example of every day; to recompose even his accent, that
interior prosody, that sound of the soul’s voice, that is more ours than even
our thoughts.”29 Antoine must give up or change even characteristics that
are a fundamental part of who he is, that form his core identity in order to
leave behind his working class origins. One’s manner of thinking and
speaking require significantly more effort and resolve to alter than other
elements of cultural capital that can be acquired over time, but are
accessible to all with money, such as formal education, books or a new
suit. The effort would prove for many to be worthwhile, as all three forms
of cultural capital strongly influence the individual’s ability to build a
durable network of connections that will help him make progress in his
profession.
Making Connections to Riches

In spite of his lack of money, Rastignac’s background provides him with
the capital to build his network more easily than someone like Antoine, or
even Horace, who has cultural capital but few useful connections.
Rastignac had noticed the influence women had on social life, remembers
his aunt’s connections to the Court and, “Suddenly, the ambitious young
man recognized, in the memories his aunt had so often shared with him,
the elements of several social conquests at least as important as those he
undertook in law school.”30 Thanks to an introduction by his aunt, he gains
entry into Parisian society at a ball hosted by a cousin, Mme de Beauséant,
one of the “queens of style” in Paris.31 To achieve his ambitions, he will
need money and connections. These two resources elevate men in Paris
society, and attending balls appears to be a more expedient path to riches
than studying law. Fittingly, the novel ends not with victory in the
courtroom, but with a social conquest: dinner at the home of Mme de
Nucingen, Old Goriot’s daughter and, more importantly, wife of the rich
banker Baron de Nucingen.
Whereas Balzac portrays Rastignac as shrewd in paying necessary
attention to building his social network, Sand presents Horace’s lack of
focus on his legal studies as a character flaw. Horace, having abandoned
law school and gained moderate literary renown, turns his attentions to
women, and “he no longer viewed talent and glory simply as ways to earn
a fortune, and he counted on his natural gifts to capture the heart of some
rich heiress.”32 However, he overestimates his charms and the fortune he
needs to complete a marriage contract with a woman as rich as he had
hoped. At this point in his life, Horace lacks not only the social
connections he needs to fulfill his ambitions, but also professional
connections. He had been lucky enough to have his first novel published
on merit, but for his second novel, editors demand a preface from Eugène
Sue, a letter of recommendation from Alphonse de Lamartine, or that he
guarantee acquisition of a serial novel by the famed Jules Janin. 33
36 Chapter Two
Counting among his acquaintances mainly poor students like himself,

Horace faces a road block in the path of his literary career. In a typically
idealistic Sandian ending, after a few more youthful follies, Horace gains
maturity and restraint, finishing his law degree and settling down to
practice law in his native region.
Simon largely rejects social interaction and the parts of his profession
that he finds distasteful. Simon gently rebuffs friendly efforts to draw him
out of his melancholy, and “all of the following days, he showed the same
love of solitude, the same need for silence and forgetting.”34 Eventually, in
the course of solitary reflection, Simon reconciles his passions and gains
control over his fear of public failure. In Simon, Sand at first seems to
create a romanticized loner who prides himself on achieving success
independently. Ultimately, however, even he makes use of his connection
to his mentor Parquet, an experienced and respected avoué. Simon’s
opportunity to prove himself and earn public recognition comes when
Parquet lets him take the lead in a case about an unnamed crime that
involves tragic scenes, passion and mystery. Simon gives a winning
performance, the substance of which is secondary to his powerful and
convincing delivery. “Soon, the belief entered into everyone’s heart, and
the orator swept away his listeners, to the point where the spirit withheld
judgment,” Sand writes. “Their souls were moved, submitting to the laws
of sympathetic deference that superior souls have the power to impose.”35
Without ignoring the economic realities facing Simon or his partial
reliance on an established lawyer, Sand valorizes her main character’s
inner qualities and the professional success he achieved through diligence.
The first hand (Mme Boissard’s) that stretched out to assist Antoine by
paying for his education is not enough to gain him a firm standing in the
legal community in Rennes. He cannot find clients. The first case he
defends is that of a poverty-stricken young women whose case, while
heartbreaking and worthy, will never lead to other clients. Antoine finally
achieves some measure of success when he heeds the advice of Randel, a
friend who is just a few years into his career as a doctor. He needs to
ingratiate himself with potential clients, even though it is contrary to his
natural disposition: “Antoine’s inelegant education, along with his
oversensitivity and consciousness of his awkwardness, had always made
visits odious to him, and it is to these characteristics, more than rigid
principles, that one must attribute the distance he kept from the social
world.”36 Rather than reacting defensively to supposed slights against his
origins, Antoine must fight on with confidence if he wants to establish
himself as a lawyer. After all, social interactions and networking constitute
the currency in which one must trade in order to continue to make progress
after earning one’s diploma. In highlighting Antoine’s rough, working-

class origins and the disadvantage at which they place him, Souvestre is
underlining the contrast between rich and poor, rather than condemning
Antoine’s roots. Disappointed that he has not found fame, fortune or love,
Antoine does allow Randel to console him with the thought that he still
has the power to help others. Ultimately, Souvestre critiques a society so
rigidly ordered according to a hierarchy of economic, social and cultural
standards that it does not make room for the inclusion of an individual
with a different background.
Conclusion
A dedicated Saint-Simonian, Souvestre believed that art had a role to play
in furthering the progress of humanity: novels should make theories of
progress accessible to the people, providing them with examples and
guidance and urging them to act.37 The work of George Sand, who shared
a similar ideology, also stakes a claim for literature’s power to influence
politics and society in novels that proposed idealized depictions of the
people. Her writing is an expression of her beliefs as well as a questioning
of the status quo. Their fictional works, while not explicitly prescriptive,
sought to guide young people by illustrating models for how they could
better themselves and society by seizing educational opportunities. In the
case of Souvestre, success takes on the definition of helping others, while
Sand values self-sufficiency and selflessness. Balzac conveys a markedly
more pragmatic vision in his novels, wherein characters who play
society’s games to gain money, culture and connections often benefit from
their manipulations.
Even Charton’s guide, which in the preface painted a rosy picture of
the opportunities for improving one’s position through education and
access to lucrative professions, later in his text acknowledged and warned
of the challenges ahead. The entry on lawyers conveys a positive image of
all that a successful lawyer can hope to gain in money and fame before
delivering this gloomy assessment:
How many hundreds, thousands of young men have deluded themselves

about the obstacles that must be overcome? How many, lacking the
financial resources, the patience, and the connections necessary to reach or
hasten the moment when they would emerge from obscurity, waste their
youth on thankless work from which they will never reap rewards, grow
tired of fighting against an immense and nearly invincible opponent, retire,
discouraged in a deluge of disgust, giving up on their future?38
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élnie a követségnél és amikor onnan visszatért, akkor se kereste fel
a fiát, mert nem akarta belekeverni a maga kalandos életébe. De
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huszonöt éves korában is egyedül él ezen a birtokon, annak a
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megelégedetten, nagy nyugalomban. Az apjának csak akkor jut
eszébe, hogy fölkeresse fiát, amikor észreveszi, hogy öregedni kezd,
mert először történt meg vele, hogy egy nő nevetni tudott rajta. De
mit nyer vele a fiú, hogy az apja adoptálja? Csak azt, hogy ez a
fordulat kiforgatja a megszokott és neki kedves életből, az apja rá
akarja oktrojálni a maga életmódját, a rangjához méltó életmódot és
végül még a menyasszonyát is elüti a kezéről, mert ő egyszerű,
derék, munkás, falusi ember, az apjában pedig, aki mindig csak a
nőknek, az udvarlásnak, a szép dolgok kultuszának és a
bókfaragásnak élt, még öregedése idején is több a hódító vonás,
mint ő benne. Persze, ezt a megoldást már Jean maga diktálja rá
menyasszonyára és apjára… ő maga kényszeríti őket egymás
karjaiba… némi lemondással, de már egy másik szerelem
reményében… belenyugodva abba, hogy: „szülék és gyermekek
közt mindig az volt a viszony, hogy az egyik feláldozta magát a
másikért… ezt hívják szeretetnek. Rendszerint a szülő áldozza fel
magát a gyermekeiért. Hát most az egyszer megfordítva lesz… nem
tesz semmit… alapjában véve mindegy“. Szóval főképpen
nobilitásból mond le, mert ebben a darabban mindenki nobilis és
kedves… még a rendkívül finom apa is, bár ennek az önzésében
van egy kis hajlandóság még a brutalitásra is… de a legnobilisabb
lény mégis csak a törvénytelen fiú.
A Papa alakjai valamennyien régi ismerőseink. Ez a fiú is a régi
Fils Naturel, közel rokona a Fourchambault-család Bernardjának, a
Demimonde Nanjacjának és az Agglegények Nantyájának; Jocas
abbét Constantin abbé néven ismerjük; számtalan változatban láttuk
már Georginát is, akit nem az erény, nem az elvek tartanak meg a
tisztességben, hanem a jó ösztöne, az, hogy a jobb sorsra érdemes
fiatalságának önkéntelenül el kell nevetnie magát, amikor véletlenül
megpillantja, milyen csunyává tette a merénylő öreget nagy
igyekezete, arcának feldúltsága s összefésültségéből való
kiborzolódása… De a legjobb ismerősünk: Larzac gróf, aki félig a
régi Olivier de Jalin, Mortemer és Ryons úr, a Nők barátja, félig pedig
a Père prodigue.
Mindezek a régi ismerőseink azonban, ha nem is
továbbfinomodott érzésvilággal, de divatosabb ruhában jelennek
meg előttünk és olyan nyelven szólnak hozzánk, amelyet jobban
értünk, mint a felsorolt régi színpadi alakok szólásmóját, amely a mai
közönségnek már szinte eufonisztikus beszédként hangzik. (Semmi
se vénül olyan hamar, mint a színpadi nyelv, mert hiszen ennek kell
leginkább tartania a rokonságot az utca nyelvével, amely minden
természetes beszéd közül a legtermészetesebb beszédnek tűnik fel
a sokaság előtt.) És Larzac gróf nemcsak megvesztegetően kedves,
hanem igazán ragyogóan elmés is. Annyira sugározza az
elmésséget, minden második mondatában, hogy ez már majdnem
sok a jóból; s a Papa meghallgatása után valami olyas utóérzésünk
van, mint annak a gyermeknek, aki többet lakmározott a krémes
édességből, mint kellett volna s hamarosan nem tud szabadulni a
kesernyés szájíztől. (1911 december.)
XXXIII.
FLERS ÉS CAILLAVET.
Primerose kisasszony.
Az újabb irodalomban szinte tipikus alak az irodalmi „marchand

de frivolités“. (A „frivolité“ szó itt éppen úgy jelentheti a finom
kézimunkát, mint a könnyű portékát, a jelentéktelen holmit, a
haszontalanságot, sőt a frivolitást is.) És amióta ez a kalmárkodás
nemcsak megszokott, hanem egyszersmind gyorsan gyümölcsöző
valami, gyakori jelenség az irodalmi „marchand de frivolités“
megtérése vagy mondjuk: színváltozása is. Az íróban, miután
hosszabb időt töltött a léhaság szolgálatában s ezzel fényes
hírnevet, talán vagyont is szerzett, egyszerre egészen más ambíció
támad fel. A komolyság felé fordul, sőt elérzékenyedik. S mintha azt
mondaná: „Voltaképpen ez az igazi én-em, a sokáig eltitkolt
nemesebb hajlandóságom, amelynek eddig csak azért nem éltem,
mert nem volt módom benne. Ha tudniillik mindjárt a komolykodással
kezdem, megkockáztatom azt, hogy sohase válhatik belőlem
nevezetes ember: a közönség nem szívesen figyel egy ismeretlen
írónak komoly szavaira, annak a kezéből azonban, aki a sokaság
mulattatásával már hírnevet szerzett, beveszi a komolyság piluláit is.
Most már megengedhetem magamnak ezt a fényűzést.“ S mint azok
a meggazdagodott self made-man-ek, akik nem voltak válogatósak a
vagyonszerzésben, céljukat elérve egy nagyot kanyarodnak, a
közhasznú tevékenység, a pazar jótékonykodás s más honores
virányai felé: a már fényes nevű irodalmi „marchand de frivolités“-k
egyszerre csak a halhatatlanságnak vagy legalább is az
akadémiának kezdenek dolgozni. Mint az ördög, ki vénségére
remetének megy, a hirhedt Vie Parisienne írói közül a
legtehetségesebbek és a legmerészebb szájúak az erény meg a
jóság áldozópapjaiként végzik, s miután az akadémia
csúfolgatásában őszültek meg, ha véletlenül maguk is bekerülnek az
akadémiába, az erény-díjról ők írják a legfinomabban zengő
jelentéseket.
Meilhachoz és Halévyhez, Donnayhoz és Lavedanhoz, Marcel
Prévosthoz meg a többi Saulusból Paulussá lett kitünőségekhez,
most Flers és Caillavet csatlakoznak.
Ezek az elmés, könnyed szavú írók, akiknek a színpadi
kézügyessége a híres sebészprofesszorok biztos kezére emlékeztet,
már a L’Amour veilleben nagyot komolyodtak, hogy a Théâtre
Françaisban is helyet foglalhassanak; s azóta írt darabjaik: a Le Roi
és a Papa, mintha feledtetni igyekeznék a Les Sentiers de la Vertu,
a L’Ange du Foyer, Miquette et sa Mère, Le Sire de Vergy meg a Les
Travaux d’Hercule kicsapongásait, azzal, hogy ugyanaz a hang itt
már más életfelfogást hangoztat s nem azt, amelynek Flers és
Caillavet a feltűnést, a nagy sikereiket és hírüket köszönhetik. De
Primerose kisasszony már egyenesen az akadémiára kacsintgat. Ne
tévesszen meg bennünket az, hogy Flers és Caillavet – már
Primerose kisasszony után írt és – legutóljára előadott darabjukban,
a L’Habit Vertben mintha gúnyolnák az akadémiát. A L’Habit Vert
csak szelíd kötődés; incselkedése: inkább enyelgés és kacérkodás;
„Haragszom rád“-játék: „Haragszom rád, mert olyan zöld a
frakkod!“… Szatírája annyira mosolygós, mintha a haragos
szatírikusok már alig várnák, hogy megengeszteljék őket; mintha
már csak azért rosszalkodnának, hogy emlékeztessenek egy kissé a
multjokra, számítva rá, hogy az akadémiának is, a legfinomabb
közönségnek is kedvesebb az előkelő megtérő, mint az, aki mindig
igaz volt.
De büntetlenül nem tölthetnek éveket Vénusz barlangjában a
Tannhäuserek; a multját mindenüvé magával viszi az ember.
És amikor nagyon is gyöngéden, diszkrét meghatottsággal,
titkolgatott elérzékenyedéssel akar beszélni, ízléssel kerülgetve az
érzelgősséget meg a kenetes hangot, akkor árulja el magát
legkönnyebben a pörge nyelvű tömeg-mulattató, aki a legnagyobb
munkásság éveit a léhaság csiklandozgatásával töltötte el s akinek
eközben vérévé vált a mókázó beszéd.
Primerose kisasszonyban Flers és Caillavet a lehető legfehérebb
darabot, de egyszersmind a képzelhető legfinomabb munkát
tervelték, amely elbájolja a gyöngédszívűeket, meghódítsa a
szigorúakat, de a szkeptikusokat is lefegyverezze. Tiszta levegőjű,
finoman illedelmes, nemes érzésekről szóló darabot, előkelő,
elragadóan kedves, derék és jó emberekről, akik mind szép lelkek,
akik azonban imponáljanak annak a nagy közönségnek is, amely a
tisztességet unalmasnak, az érzelmességet pedig együgyűnek
találja. Eszükbe juthatott, hogy Meilhac, a megtérésekor, az
Attachéval jelent meg, aki annyira finomlelkű, hogy semmi szín alatt
nem akarja feleségül venni a nagyon gazdag hölgyet, akármennyire
imádja is ezt; és eszükbe juthatott Halévy, aki miután húsz évig
sétáltatta meg az irodalomban a rettenetes Cardinal-családot,
Constantin abbét keltette életre, hogy ez bocsánatot eszközöljön ki
számára az előkelőktől és az akadémiától. A felhőben járó
attachénak Amerikából érkező s különben praktikus üzletemberré
modernizálásával máris könnyűnek tűnhetett fel előttük a feladat;
Constantin abbénak jólelkűséggel és milliókkal hájas környezetét is
használható miliőnek találhatták; csak éppen a jámbor és kissé
totyakos Constantin abbét kellett átformálniok olyan modern
főpappá, akinek az érzelmességét jókora szkepszis, a
radikálizmussal szemben nagy türelmesség s valamelyest, de elég
rosszult titkolt hitetlenség mentse.
Ez a ravasz számítás azonban, amely minden elképzelhető lelki
diszpoziciót ki akart elégíteni s a közönségnek mindegyik elemére
hatni kívánva, azon igyekezett, hogy a kecske is jóllakjék, a
káposzta is megmaradjon: csak félig-meddig vált be. A fehér
darabon Flers és Caillavet minden ügyessége és elméssége
ellenére is megérzik a meggyőződés és az őszinteség hiánya; az,
hogy a szerzők maguk is hihetetlennek tartják a meséjöket vagy
legalább is holdvilágfalóknak, érthetetlenül oktalanoknak tekintik a
főalakjaikat és hogy kételkedésel, hidegen okoskodták ki mindazokat
az érzelmességeket, amelyeknek diszkrét előadását kínos
feladatként sózzák rá a főalakjaikra.
A Meilhac és Halévy-féle reminiszcenciák náluk így alakulnak
színdarabbá: a hótiszta Primerose maga ajánlja fel kezét Pierrenek.
De Pierre, abban a hiszemben, hogy a vagyona elveszett,
finomlelkűségből lehazudja szerelmét s nem fogadja el a feléje
nyújtott kezet. Mikor azután vagyonának nagy részét mégis sikerül
megmentenie, Primerose már zárdába vonult s Pierre hiába tudatja
vele, hogy (így mondhatná:) „csak a legrosszabbkor érkezett téves
információ okozta, ha szerelméről cáfoló nyilatkozatot tett közzé“,
Primerose, bár még nem tett fogadalmat, kosarat ad neki, mert az Úr
menyasszonyának tekinti magát s azt hiszi, az Egyházat most már
nem illenék cserben hagynia.
De (amint Budapesten mondani szokás:) pont ekkor történik meg
Franciaországban a kongregációk megszüntetése és az, hogy
Combes Emil úr, becéző nevén: Combes tata, a radikálisok öröme,
szétkergeti a szerzeteseket meg az apácákat. Pierrenek az első
gondolata az, hogy szembeszállva az új törvénnyel és Combes
tatával, egymagában is meg fogja védelmezni Primerose zárdáját,
de miután ezzel az ötlettel szerencsésen elintézte a felvonásvég
kérdését, okosabbat gondol s a régi jó recipe szerint más hölgynek
udvarolva igyekszik Primerosenak a szívére hatni. A sokszázados
csodatévő szer ezúttal is beválik; Primeroseban fölébred a
féltékenységnek az a fajtája, melyben az öntudatlan hiúságnak és az
irígységnek majdnem akkora szerepe van, mint a szerelemnek s a
darab végén, leszámolva azzal, hogy az Egyház majd csak ki fogja
heverni az ő elvesztését, már újra a földé, amely itt természetesen
Pierret jelenti.
A mesének ebből a kivonatából is látni, hogy Flers és Caillavet
Primerose kisasszonyban két gyertyát gyújtottak, nem az ördögnek,
hanem a szenteknek, az akadémiának, az előkelőknek vagy ha úgy
tetszik: a vieux jeu-nek. Az egyik az a koncesszió, hogy: a
„csuhások“ is emberek és ha talán parancsoló állami szükség volt,
hogy a Combes tata „providenciális“ keze szétoperálja az államot és
az egyházat, a szerzetesrendek eltörléséről szóló törvény
szomorúságot okozott sok olyan jó léleknek is, akik nem vétettek
senkinek a világon. A másik gyertya… nos, ugyan meddig mehet el
a szkeptikus, amikor engedményt akar tenni az ósdi felfogásnak, a
babonának, azoknak az embereknek, akiket a régi világ ittfelejtett s
akiknek a létezése már anakronizmus? A szkeptikus megengedi,
hogy az olyan ártatlan lélekben, amilyen a Primeroseé, igenis,
elképzelhető a mély és tartósan ugyanegy lény felé irányuló,
hűséges és tiszta szerelmi érzés is, amely, ha öntudatlanul szintén
csak földi, nagyon is földi érzelem, azért nem kevésbé megható és
gyönyörködtető.
De vajjon érdekelheti-e egy minden viszontagságot legyőző, hű
szerelemnek a története a közönségnek azt az elemét is, amelyet a
mozi már ugyancsak elkényeztetett?! Vajjon nem szisszennek-e fel
azok, akik a Flers és Caillavet szövetséget a M. de la Palisse és a
Le Sire de Vergy óta tisztelik, ha a régi események csúfolgatásáról
híres szerzők új darabjában egyszerre csak Héloïset a nagyon is
mondaine-életet élő apáca-növendék kackiás öltözetében látják,
Abailardt pedig frakkban, de mind a kettőt a régi komolyságában?!
Vajjon nem fogja-e ezek szerelmi regényét nagyon is édeskés
históriának találni az a közönség, amelyet a legszorgalmasabban
éppen Flers és Caillavet tanítgattak arra, hogy ezen a világon
minden, de minden csak csúfolódás anyaga?! S még hozzá azt is
érezhették Flers és Caillavet, hogy ők csak legújabban kezdenek
érteni a tiszta szerelemhez, nem volna tehát csoda, ha rosszul
intonálnának, amikor a még jól meg nem tanult románcot kezdik
énekelni és sokan úgy találhatják, hogy: nini, ezek a gyakorlatlan
kezdők nagyon is magas hangból kezdték! Ők maguk vehették észre
legelőször, hogy Primerosenak és Pierrenek az ajakáról szinte
csöpög a szirup.
Hogy ezen a közönség fenn ne akadjon, a régi Flers és Caillavet
nem tagadhatták meg magukat. Nem állhatták meg, hogy
Héloïseunkat és Abailardjukat körül ne bástyázzák mindazzal,
amiben közönségüknek valaha öröme telt. Azért beállítottak a
darabjukba: 1. egy paraszt-apácát, aki csak egy szegény kis némber
s akinek a feladata (és egyetlen hivatása), azt illusztrálni, hogy ha a
csuhások is emberek, viszont a legtisztább hitű s csak a jótettnek élő
ártatlan lények emellett igen közönséges teremtések lehetnek, – 2.
két arisztokratát, akik a korlátoltságot és a rövidlátást képviselik,
idősebb és ifjabb kiadásban, – 3. egy öreg nagyúri dámát, aki a
morál kérdéseiben annyira türelmes és elnéző, mint a Pailleron
finom elméjű Réville hercegnéje s szavai, ráadásul, a nagyobb
hangsúly kedvéért, olyan viharos szerelmi multat sejtetnek, aminőt a
Régence legelszántabb hölgyei élhettek, – végül, 4. egy
hasonlóképpen bölcs és hasonlóképpen még ki nem hamvadt tüzű,
fölötte eszes, javakorbeli bíborost.
Mindez meg is teszi a hatását. De minél csípősebb ez a pikáns
mártás, annál inkább feltűnik, hogy az, amit „garníroz“, nagyon is
rászorul az ízesítésre. Minél józanabb vagy közönségesebb
Primerosenak a környezete, annál inkább feltűnik, hogy a főalakok
érzelmessége mennyire hamis hangokat ad. Azután a néző nem
győz eleget csodálkozni azon, hogyan nevelhette Primeroset ilyen
tökéletes angyallá ez a minden hájjal megkent környezet és ez a
bíboros, aki minden elődje közül a legjobban Dubois bíborosra
emlékeztet.
Ez a bíboros különben is gyanus. Minduntalan azt a kérdést
juttatja a néző eszébe, hogy vajjon nem a Montmartre
brasseriejeiben töltötte-e a fiatalságát s nemcsak a Flers és Caillavet
álarc- és jelmezkölcsönző intézetéből szerezte-e a bíborosi kalapját?
Mert az igazi bíborosok nem úgy szoktak viselkedni és kivált nem
úgy szoktak beszélni, mint Primerose bácsikája. Ha minden áron le
akarja beszélni búslakodó hugát arról, hogy a zárdába menjen, ezt
még meg lehet érteni, bár (amint láthatjuk) nincsen igaza, ha attól
tart, hogy Primerosenak a zárdában rosszabb dolga lesz, mint
otthon; mert, íme, a kolostori élet szórakozást és egy kis eledést ad
Primerosenak s hamarabb megenyhíti szerelmi bánatát, mintha
csalódása után otthon a keringőző párok körül forgolódnék, irígy
szemmel nézve ezek örömét. Érthető még az is, ha a bíboros
később, amikor látja, hogy Primerose és Pierre egybekelésének
nincs komoly akadálya, egy házasító asszony buzgalmával fáradozik
azon, hogy Primerose „engedjen az élet hívó szavának“. De az igazi
bíborosok nem beszélnek olyan cinikusan, mint azok az egykori
bohémek, akik valaha a „Chat noir“-ban tették le a vizsgálatukat és
nem mondanak oly ostobaságot, hogy: „Ha valami ostobaságot kell
elkövetnünk, még legjobb, ha az Istennel követjük el, mert vele a
dolgot mindíg rendbe lehet hozni.“ Lehetnek istentelen papok; még
gyilkos papok is akadnak. De olyan papok, akik minden második
szavukkal a vallás dolgait figuráznák ki, nincsenek. Olyan bíborost,
aki az Istenről viccel, Flers és Caillavet csak a saját darabjukban
láthattak.
Az elmésség sokat kiment, de Primerose kisasszony ugyancsak
rászorul erre a mentségre. Flers és Caillavet ez alkalommal egy
kissé elvétették a számításukat. Régi közönségük hűségét jobban
próbára teszik, mint valaha, mert ennek sok a jóból, amit Primerose
és Pierre szavalgatnak neki; azt a közönséget pedig, amelyet
előszörre Primerose kisasszonynyal akartak meghódítani, inkább
megrőkönyítik, mint elbájolják, mert ez a közönség mindjárt
észreveszi, hogy bíborosuknak lólába van. (1913 február.)
XXXIV.
BERNSTEIN.
Az ostrom.
Az ostrom budapesti bemutatója nagy érdeklődéssel találkozott,

de ezt az érdeklődést inkább a szerző neve keltette fel, mint maga a
mű. Budapesten, ahol a nagyközönség semmit se értékel jobban a
színpadon, mint a mozgalmat, a fordulatosságot s általában az
ügyeskedést, Bernstein igen népszerű színműíró.
Az ostromban azt látjuk, hogy egy politikus, akit, mikor
pártvezérré s miniszterré küzdötte fel magát, erkölcsi halottá akarnak
tenni fiatalkori botlásának felkutatásával, hogyan fegyverzi le
megtámadóját. Ugy, hogy barátai körében kezdi szimatolgatni, vajjon
ezek közül melyik lehet az a rejtőzködő ellenség, aki értelmi szerzője
és titokban financiális támogatója az ellene egy zuglapban indított s
nyilván határozott céllal folytatatt sajtó-kampánynak; mikor azután az
okoskodás rávezeti, melyik barátjának áll útjában s érvényesülése kit
hátráltat az előmenetelében, ő is felkutatja ennek a barátjának
multját, kövér panamákat talál benne, megszerzi a barátja ellen
szóló, megsemmisítő bizonyítékokat, az orra alá dörgöli ezeket a
barátot játszó ellenségnek s rákényszeríti ezt, hogy pénzzel, amivel
szította, szerelje le az ellene folytatott háborút, mert ha a botrány
következtében elbukik, viszont ő is meg fogja fojtani tisztelt barátom
uramat. Ez fogcsikorgatva adja meg magát s intézkedik, hogy a
zugfirkász, aki csak eszköze volt, a biróság előtt tökéletes elégtételt
adjon a megtámadottnak.
Itt van a darab veleje; ez a foglalatja Az ostrom középső és
legérdekesebb felvonásának.
Számoljunk le vele, micsoda életbölcsességeket tartalmaz ez a
kis mese.
Mindenekelőtt azt, hogy: aki fiatalkorában egyszer megbotlott,
ettől még igen tisztességes ember lehet, vagy legalább is: a
könnyelmű ifjúból derék ember válhatik, aki hasznos tagja a
társadalomnak. Ha tehát egy ilyen valaki harminc évi derék
munkával expiálta a fiatalkori botlását, meg kellene védelmezni attól,
hogy azért a fiatalkori megtévedésért, amelyet az érdekeltek azonnal
megbocsátottak neki s amelyet minta-élettel iparkodott elfelejtetni,
harminc évi tisztes munka után is pellengérre állíthassa akármelyik
gazember. Hogy meg lehessen bélyegezni az egész világ előtt,
amelynek harminc éven át csak a javára szolgált, meg lehessen
szégyeníteni a családja előtt, amely mindent neki köszönhet, s
tönkre lehessen tenni kitartó munkásságának, harminc évi
érdemszerzésének minden eredményét, csupán azért, mert első
fiatalságában, a meggondolatlanság, a könnyelműségek idején, volt
egy negyedórája, amikor nem volt elég erős.
Ez régi, kedves témája a költőknek is. Az élet ugyan arra tanít
meg bennünket, hogy ilyen igazságtalanság csak nagyritkán történik,
mert azok közül, akiket a rossz negyedóra megtántorított, csak igen
kevésben van annyi erő, hogy utóbb talpra tud állani, a legtöbbnél,
sajnos, az első elbotlást nyomon követi a második meg a harmadik,
minthogy itt is csak az első lépés nehéz: de amíg elvétve,
kivételesen, mégis meg-megtörténik néha ez az igazságtalanság,
addig a költőnek szent joga, hogy újra meg újra reklamálhasson
annak érdekében, aki már nem csak a bocsánatra szolgált rá,
hanem azt is kiverejtékezte, hogy becsülés illesse meg. A téma ellen
tehát nem lehet semmi kifogás és ha Bernstein véletlenül csak azzal
foglalkoztatja a nézőt, hogy egy szerencsétlen negyedóráért harminc
évvel később micsoda szenvedéseket kell kiállania az ő politikus
Valjean Jánosának, olyan drámával állhatott volna elő, aminőket a
költőknél találunk.
De Bernsteinnál ez csak a kiinduló pont. Az ő Valjean Jánosa
nem mártírja a társadalomnak; az ő hőse nem hagyja magát. S a
második életbölcsesség, mely Bernsteinnak a meséjéből
kimosolyog, már ez: Segíts magadon s az Isten is megsegít! A
harmadik pedig: Legyetek okosok, mint a kígyók! Azután: A barátod
legtöbbször versenytársad is, tehát az ellenséged, mihelyt az érdeke
úgy hozza magával. Az ellenséget pedig a maga fegyverével kell
megölni. Azért, ha az ellenséged a multaddal akar megfojtani, szép
csöndben, hogy ne is gyanítsa, mit művelsz, ásd fel az ő multját.
Mérget vehetsz rá, hogy szörnyűségeket találsz benne, mert
mindenkinek vaj van a fején… amely legutolsó életbölcsesség már
nem lehet nagyon szimpátikus azok előtt, akik tudják, hogy nem
csak gazemberek vannak a világon.
Mit cselekszik Az ostrom hőse a néző szemeláttára? Gyanusítani
kezdi magában egyik barátját, de tovább is nyájasan mosolyogva
szorongatja a kezét. Míg folyvást a barát képében mutatkozik előtte,
kémekkel felkutattatja ennek az embernek multját. Megvásárolja egy
megszorult gentlemantől azokat az okiratokat, amelyek ellenségének
bűnét bizonyítják. Azután kelepcébe csalja és gáncsot vet neki.
Mikor amaz elárulja magát, gyomrozni kezdi, torkon ragadja s addig
szorongatja a gégéjét, míg amaz hanyatt vágódik s egy utolsó
nyekkenéssel megadja magát. Ekkor kiszedi a letepert ember
méregfogait s végül kiemeli a beleit: Voilà!… Tapsoljatok!
Akármilyen elvetemedett gazemberrel bánik el, ez az „eljárás“
nem teheti szimpátikussá előttünk. Még csak érdekessé se. Azt,
hogy harminc évig derék munkát végzett, nem láttuk, csak hallottuk,
tőle magától. De hogy sintérmunkát végez, azt látjuk; ez már
előttünk történik a színpadon. Miért érdeklődjünk hát sorsa iránt
különösebben? Azért, mert nem hagyja magát, mert furfangos, mert
túljár a másiknak eszén, mert a gazemberrel gazember módra küzd
meg? – Igen – mondja Bernstein. Tehát nyilvánvaló, hogy ez a
darab: az élelmesség dicsőítése. Már pedig ez még magában véve
nem mindenkit lelkesít.
„Bocsánat – mondhatná valaki – ezt a nagy jelenetet nem etikai
nézőpontból kell megítélni. Azért, hogy a megtámadott tisztességes
ember a gazemberrel gazember módra bánik el, vagy hogy nem húz
keztyűt, mikor a rárohanó fenevadat lesakterolja, azért ez a
küzdelem, két agyafúrt ember küzdelme, két ész párbaja, érdekes
lehet, sőt a maga nemében szép is. És minden itt dől el, hogy
érdekes és szép-e az a párbaj, amelyet Bernstein darabjában
látunk?“
Nos, ez a küzdelem izgató hatású lehet azokra nézve, akiket
izgat két kakas viaskodásának látása is, de Bernstein Az ostrom
nagy jelenetében nem igen mond többet, mint amennyit Gaboriau
közöl olvasójával, mikor Lecocq úrral valakit leálcáztat. Vagy hogy
újabb példára hivatkozzunk: Nick Carter cselekszik és beszél úgy,
ahogyan Az ostrom hőse, amikor az intrikust le- és kiteríti. Ügyesen
derít fel egy nem nagyon érdekes régi eseményt, logikusan
következtet és vitatkozik, el tud kerülni minden nagyobb
ízléstelenséget, de ennyi az egész; olyasmit, ami megvilágítaná,
hogy régente mi ment és most mi megy végbe a színpadon élet-
halálharcot vívók lelkében, Bernstein minél kevesebbet mond a
nézőnek.
Igaz, a drámának van még egy másik szála is – talán főképpen
azért, hogy a nem éppen vonzó cselekvés sivárabb jeleneteinek
hatását valamelyest megenyhíthesse egy-két női szereplőnek
megjelenése – de a drámának ebből a másik szálából se fejlődnek ki
érdekesebb vagy legalább olyan jelenetek, amelyek méltán
számítnak a néző szimpátiájára. Itt egy fiatal nőről van szó, aki igaz
szerelemmel szereti Az ostrom öregedő hősét s még akkor is
rendületlenül hisz Méritalnak ártatlanságában, amikor ebben már
Méritalnak a gyermekei is kételkednek. Bernstein annál kevésbé
tudja megmagyarázni, hogy Renée, akit Mérital a fiának szánt,
egyszerre csak szerelmet vall neki és elárulja, hogy nem apósául,
hanem férjéül kívánja – mert amivel ez az öregedő ember a
legnagyobb hatást teheti egy fiatal nőre, a sokat emlegetett lelki
kiválósága meglehetősen a színfalak közt marad. Mérital hódító
tulajdonságai közül csak éppen az eszességét hozza a színpadra; s
a néző a körmönfont Mérital igazolható, de nem éppen gyönyörű
színpadi szereplése láttán sehogy se értheti meg, hogy ha már
Renéet jobban vonzza az ötven éves ember, mint a fiatal, mért
éppen ezt az öreget választja, aki ugyancsak verejtékezik és
rugdalódzik előttünk, hogy a fiatalkori lopása titokban maradjon?
Éppen ilyen bajos megérteni a mi Méritalunkban azt a fenséget,
amellyel megilletődve és elérzékenyedve azon, hogy milyen
rendületlenül bízik Renée az ő multjának tisztaságában, önként
vallja meg Renéenek – akkor, amikor a mult feltámadó kisértetének
már kitekerte a nyakát – hogy: de igen, ő valaha vétkezett. Hogy
Renéenek a szerelmét csak megerősíti ez a nagylelkű nyíltság –
mely az eszes Mérital előtt annál fölöslegesebbnek tűnhetik fel, mert
hiszen csak izgalmakat, aggodalmakat, csalódást, a legjobb esetben
is: csak rossz érzést szerezhet vele a szerelmesének – ez már
könnyebben megérthető, kivált abban a furcsa nőben, akit úgy
látszik, jobban vonzanak az öreg urak, mint az ifjúság. Ha valaki már
ilyen természettel született, nem lepheti meg az embert azzal sem,
hogy ha a nagylelkűség rohama egyebekben is krónikusan
jelentkezik nála.
A dráma tehát abban a fenséges elhatározásban kulminál, hogy
a hős a benne vakon bízó nőnek akkor vallja meg a multját, amikor
már senki se vádolja s amikor a vallomása legalább is fölöslegesnek
tűnik fel és mégis megvallja, mert szerelmesének vak bizodalmában
megnyilatkozó lelki nemessége tökéletes őszinteségre és egy kis
vezeklésre kényszeríti. Ez a bonyodalom pedig egy másik fenséges
elhatározással oldódik meg: azzal, hogy Renée most már még
jobban fogja szeretni öreg szerelmesét, aki a boldogsága kockára
vetésével is képes volt a legteljesebb nyiltságra, hogy még a
hallgatásával se csalja meg azt, akit élettársául kíván. Az egyik
fenséges mozdulat nem könnyen érthető, mert Mérital előbb nem
éppen az idealizmusával tündökölt, a másik is váratlan, mert
Renéenek előbb nem igen volt módja tájékoztatnia a nézőt arról,
hogy mennyi heroizmus rejtőzik a lelkében és mindaz, amit e közt a
két fenséges gesztus között a darabban látunk, akármi, csak nem
fenséges.
És nem is lehetne egykönnyen megérteni, miért traktálja a szerző
közönségét ennyire elidegenítő, szinte visszataszító jelenetekkel, ha
nem volna ismeretes, hogy ennek az ügyes technikázással készített
darabnak megírásában Bernsteinnak a szubjektivitása is szerepelt.
Az ostromban felel azoknak, akik szemére vetették, hogy valaha
katonaszökevény volt. Ezért válik hőssé Mérital, aki ifjúságában
elbotlott s ezért annak az életbölcsességnek a hangoztatása, hogy:
„Csak lassan a váddal, mert mindenkinek vaj van a fején!“…
Különös, de ez a csunya darab: egy kissé líra. (1913 február.)
XXXV.
BATAILLE.
A szerelem gyermeke.
Rantz, mikor államtitkárrá nevezik ki, szakítani akar Lianenal,

akivel tizenhét évig élt vadházasságban, mert megúnta és most már
terhére is van. Azért, miután a barátaik előtt kocsis és kofa módjára
veszekedték ki magukat, kiadja neki az útját és félmilliónyi
végkielégítést küld neki. Lianet ez kétségbeejti; ez a sok vihart látott
kokott, aki hajdan egészen közönséges hetéra volt, olyan végzetes
szerelemmel szereti az aggulni kezdő parlamenti törtetőt, hogy
elkeseredésében minduntalan medeai hangokat hallat. Van neki egy
törvénytelen fia, Maurice, akinek egy derék pincér volt az apja. Ezzel
a fiúval eddig nem sokat törődött; a tífuszában nem ápolta,
Mauricenak csak a cselédlépcsőn volt szabad feljárnia hozzá, ha
hallotta, hogy az anyja egyedül van; a gondoskodása Mauriceszal
szemben arra szorítkozott, hogy ellátta pénzzel, mert ügyelt rá, hogy
a fiú érzékei kielégüléshez jussanak, de erre azután annyira ügyelt,
hogy nem győzte a lelkére kötni a fiának meg a fia babájának, akit
megindultan cirógatott, hogy buzgón szeressék egymást, hiszen ez
az egyetlen jó dolog a világon!… Bajában végre eszébe jut ez az
elhanyagolt fiú; hirtelen fölfedezi, hogy ő anya is s a fiának sírja el
szerelmi bánatát meg azt, hogy milyen olthatatlan szerelmi
vágyakozással csüng Rantzon. Mi több, azzal is megtiszteli most
már a fiát, hogy egyenesen azért megy el hozzá, hogy
öngyilkosságot kisérelhessen meg nála. Ezt a Mauricot pedig a
cselédek, akik úgy látszik, kitünő pedagógusok, rendkívül érző lelkű
fiatalembernek nevelték. Nem túlságosan önérzetes ugyan, mert
nem csinál semmit, csak lóversenyre jár s abból a pénzből él,
amelyet anyja Rantztól kap, de mindenkinek vannak gyöngéi.
Maurice tehát, aki eddig úgy tudta, hogy anyja már több szerelmi
elhagyatottságát és ezen való bánatát sikerrel győzte le, miután
meggyóntatta anyját s ennek szerelmi előéletéről alaposabb és
részletes információt szerzett, – magától édes szüléjétől! –
elhatározza, hogy viszonozni fogja mamájának róla való
gondoskodását s vissza fogja szerezni neki azt a férfit, aki nélkül
nem tud meglenni.
Ezt két, nem egészen tisztes oktalansággal akarja elérni.
Véletlenül bizonyítékai vannak rá, hogy Rantz valaha, kezdő
politikus korában, egy kis lóversenycsalást követett el. Meg akarja
zsarolni tehát Rantzot; ha nem fogadja vissza a mamáját, akkor
kíméletlenül leleplezi. A szerelmi bánatában szublimissé váló Liane
ugyan elcseni fiától és Rantzhoz juttatja ezeket a kompromittáló
iratokat, – minden egyébbel, amit mostanában tőle kapott, az
ékszereivel és a félmilliós csekkel egyetemben! – de Maurice még
idejében újra kezébe keríti érzelmességtől csepegő zsarolása
eszközét és neki szegzi a revolvert Rantznak. A fenyegetőzés
azonban nem hat. A viharedzett panamista bízik abban, hogy az
ilyen csekélyebb szépségfolton már nem akad fenn a világ, kineveti
a naív ifjút s Maurice kénytelen a másik revolveréhez folyamodni.
Van Rantznak egy törvénytelen leánya (ebben a darabban a
törvénytelen gyermekekből egész gyűjteményt kapunk, minden
nevezetesebb megokolás, probléma-feszegetés stb. nélkül), akit
most készül férjhez adni. Ezt a balga szűzet már korábban is
érdekelte papája kedvesének a fia, de most már olyan olthatatlan,
végzetes szerelmi vággyal ég Mauriceért, mint ennek az anyja az ő
papájáért. Minden áron rá akarja kötni magát imádottja nyakára;
közvetetlenül az esküvője előtt elmegy Mauricenak a lakására, hogy
még narancsvirágostul kínálhassa fel neki magát. Azután addig
ismételgeti Mauricenak, hogy: „Tehet velem, amit akar!“… amíg
ennek eszébe jut, hogy a dühösen szerelmes leánykát is fel lehet
használni papájának a megzsarolására. A cél szentesíti az
eszközöket; mit ez a kis zsarolás, mikor a fiúi szeretet nagyszerű
megnyilvánulásáról van szó!… Minthogy ő más leányért eped, nem
él vissza a balga szűz ajándékozásával, hanem a leányt – aki előbb
a kávéházban várakozott sokáig a fatális szerelemre s most a
legénylakásban cselekszi ezt türelmesen – magánál fogja éjszakára,
azután bezárja, magához veszi a lakás kulcsát, elmegy Rantzhoz, és
azt mondja neki, hogy: vagy visszaveszi Liane mamát, vagy a
leánya, mint leány, nem jön ki Maurice lakásából. A finom Rantz erre
is vállat von, azután arcába vágja Mauricenak a származását, meg
azt, hogy most is olyan ruha van rajta, amely az ő pénzéből került ki
és kiutasítja a fiatal zsarolót. Erre Maurice térdre esik és zokogva
kezd könyörögni neki, hogy ne hagyja el az anyját. Rantz pedig, aki
szembeszállott a meghurcoltatással, s akit nem nagyon alterált a
leánya sorsa sem, ezen annyira megindul, hogy azt mondja a
szegény ifjúnak: „Jöjjön!…“ Kiderül, hogy az érző szívek
versenyében ő a legérzőbb szívű, ha nem is néztük ki belőle. De –
még utóbb – az is kiderült, hogy rendkívül alkalmatlannak találja a
nemes érzésekben oly gazdag ifjút. Annyira elérzékenyedik, ha csak
látja is, hogy kénytelen eltávolítani. Azért abban állapodik meg
Lianenal, akit ismét keblére ölelt, hogy Mauricet elküldik egy braziliai
bányába, igazgatónak, huszonnyolcezer frank évi fizetéssel. (Szép
üzlet lehet, amelyet ilyen előképzettséggel igazgatnak!) Oda
magával viheti a kedvesét is, hogy ne kelljen annyira szomorkodnia,
a mamájától távol. Liane, akinek most már nincs szüksége a fiára,
azon való örömében, hogy visszakapta a férfiját, szívesen
beleegyezik abba, hogy a fiát, aki visszavezette hozzá a kedvesét,
elhanyagolt s tisztességes keresetre nem képes gyermekét, akinek a
megélhetéséről előbb csak úgy gondoskodott, hogy az utolsó
gyűrűjét is visszadobta Rantznak – ezentúl nem fogja látni többé.
Helyette, vígaszul, egy nyolc éves kis fiút kap ajándékba Rantztól,
hogy a ház ne maradjon törvénytelen gyermek nélkül. Maurice pedig
könnyű szívvel mond le forrón szeretett, imádott mamájáról, mert
vele lesz a babája s végre is ez a fődolog és elfogadja a
kegyelemkenyeret attól a kipróbált vén panamistától, aki őt olyan
csunyán lefőzte, de azután mégis csak megkönyörült rajta. Nehéz
volna hamarjában megmondani, hogy ebben a Szerelem gyermeke
című drámában mi több: az-e, ami utálatos is, vagy az, ami csak
hazugság. Ne is keressük.
Két jelenete mutatja a színpadot jól ismerő, ügyes drámaírót: az
a jelenet, amelyikben Rantz hajba kap Lianenal a barátaik
jelenlétében, meg az, ahol Liane Rantznak a lakásán dühöng, tör-
zúz, döngeti az ajtókat, sír, s tombol, ahogyan csak hiszterika tud.
Ezt a két jelenetet igaznak lehet találni, de egyszersmind
közönségesnek is. De a darab minden jelenete mutatja a ravasz
színházi mesterembert, aki addig ugrándozik gyorsan a cselekvés
egyik fordulatától a másikhoz, minduntalan apró meglepetésekkel
traktálva a nézőt s addig beszél terjengősen, áradozva, de a
szóáradat hatalmas gördülékenységével, a színpadi ékesszólás
forró szavakat lihegő s fojtogatott indulatot mímelő színlelt tüzével,
míg végre is belopja sablonosságainak ügyes keverékét a sokaság
érdeklődésébe. (1911 december.)
XXXVI.
ECHEGARAY.
Őrült vagy szent.

(Dráma 3 felvonásban, spanyolból fordította dr. Szalai Emil. Bemutató a
Vígszínházban 1898 október 11.-én.)
Az a könnyfacsaró színdarab, melynek Echegaray az Őrült vagy

szent címet adta, egy pokoli félreértésben tetőzik. Olyan
félreértésben, amely bizonyára tőke volna a bohózatirónak, de a
drámaírót csak nyugtalaníthatta. Hogy ezt a félreértést plauzibilissé
tegye, José Echegaraynak egy meglehetősen komplikált s
valószínűség dolgában kissé fogyatékos regényre, egy kivételesen
jellemes, de egyszersmind kivételesen gyöngeélméjű hősre, végül
igen sok színpadi ravaszkodásra volt szüksége, amely
ravaszkodások közül még a világítási effektusok és a „jelképies“
színpadi csoportosulások sem hiányzanak.
Nézzük mindenekelőtt a regényt.
A gazdag Avendano úrnak nem volt gyermeke s úgy őt, mint
feleségét igen bántotta az a gondolat, hogy kire is marad hát a kis
ködmen? Annyira bántotta őket, hogy utoljára nem tudtak kitalálni
okosabbat, mint azt, hogy: gyermeket csempésznek az Avendano-
családba. Avendanoné magáénak színlelte egy Juana nevű dajka
gyermekét s Avendano úr vállalta a dolgot. A gyermek felnőtt s ő a
nagy vagyon ura; persze sejtelme sincs róla, hogy kétszeresen is
kakukfiú. Ez nem is tudódnék ki soha, de Avendanonét furdalja az a

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A New Social Question Capitalism

Socialism and Utopia 1st Edition Casey

Beyond Capitalism New Social Architectures 1st Edition

Between an Animal and a Machine Stanis■aw Lem s

Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar and the Question of Socialism in

Digital Capitalism and New Institutionalism 1st Edition

Social Media and Capitalism People Communities and

New Perspectives on Detective Fiction Mystery Magnified

Utopia New Jersey Travels in the Nearest Eden 1st

The Myth of Black Capitalism: New Edition Hutchinson

Edited by Casey Harison

This book first published 2015

Cambridge Scholars Publishing

Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Copyright © 2015 by Casey Harison and contributors

ISBN (10): 1-4438-8374-3

List of Tables ............................................................................................. vii

Acknowledgements .................................................................................. viii

Chapter One ................................................................................................. 8

Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 27

Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 43

Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 64

Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 85

Part II: Socialism

Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 108

Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 126

Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 144

Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 164

Part III: Utopia

Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 184

Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ 198

Chapter Twelve ....................................................................................... 218

Chapter Thirteen ...................................................................................... 238

Contributors ............................................................................................. 262

Top Income Shares and Average Incomes. United States. 1975-2013.

In November 2014, the University of Southern Indiana’s Center for

option because of its’ “deterioration… deriv(-ing) almost directly from the

Goldhammer (New York: Belknap Press, 2014).

JOHN STUART MILL’S ANALYSIS

In Principles of Political Economy, John Stuart Mill both provides an

wide-reaching. Although wary of being too prescriptive, the socialist

Mill’s Changing Political Theory and Philosophy

In addition, in adopting a new view of history from the Saint-Simonians

The Saint-Simonians and Mill’s Changing Philosophy

Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism

Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds of Liberty

occupation, or freedom of movement, and are “practically as dependent”

Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds of Equality

capitalism when he likens the current economic system to a race declared

Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds

Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds

Mill’s Analysis of Capitalism on the Grounds of Social

Mill’s Suggestions for Improving Capitalism

the relentless pursuit of growth, we might achieve a happy “stationary

where as well as involving communal ownership, we think socialism has

Mill’s Critical Assessment of Capitalism:

Mill’s Account of the “Road” to Socialism