Chapter V: By A. J. Warner (1)

From whatever side the question is approached, in the last analysis the value of money of any kind is found to depend upon its quantity, and not upon color, or ductility, or malleability, or any other particular quality of the thing upon which the money function is impressed. There can be therefore, in fact, no other standard of value, or money standard, except the quantity of whatever is used as money. When gold and silver are used, the value of each unit of money depends upon the number of such units, and these in turn depend upon the quantity of the metal from which the money is made. Any cause, therefore, which restricts, limits, or contracts the quantity of any kind of money, increases the value of each unit. On the contrary, causes that operate to increase the supply of money have the opposite effect.

Hence, only that currency can properly be called "sound" currency which is made to maintain stable relations to things to be bought and sold. In other words, general prices are determined by the proportion between money on the one side, and things offered against money on the other side. Such money only is "honest" money.

The whole question, therefore, of money standard is a question of money supply; for, as the price of single things, money being constant, depends upon supply on the one hand, as against demand for it on the other, so, in general, prices depend on money supply on the one hand, and things to be bought and sold on the other. This I believe to be the fundamental law of money.

THE NEW CIVIL CODE OF JAPAN.

BY TOKICHI MASAO, M. L., D. C. L.

Ever since the establishment of the present imperial government in 1868, the one unceasing aim of Japan's foreign policy has been the abolition of the extra-territoriality régime, under which certain quasi-judicial functions are exercised on the Japanese soil by the ambassadors and consuls of the Occidental nations. This anxiety on Japan's part to rid herself of this shameful régime imposed upon her against her will, will not appear surprising when the fact is learnt that one Occidental nation went so far as to call her consul at Yokohama, "Her Britannic Majesty's the Most Honourable Court for Japan"--a name almost enough to imply that Japan was a British province. Extra-territoriality rests upon the assumption that the laws and procedure of the non-Christian nations are so unlike to and different from those of the Christian nations that without the protection of this system the safety and well-being of the subjects of the latter sojourning in the territory of the former would be placed in constant jeopardy. Accordingly in the early seventies Japan came to the conclusion that the only possible way of emancipating herself from the disgraceful yoke of extra-territoriality was to adopt one of the systems of law obtaining in the Christian world and compile a code of law based upon that system, and applicable alike to the Japanese and to the foreigners residing in Japan.

There were three such systems--the Anglo-American, the French, and the Germanic Roman--each offering itself for adoption. Mr. Yeto Shimpei,[2] who became the Minister of Justice in 1872, seems to have had a personal preference for the French system. He called to his assistance some of the most eminent jurists of France and entered upon the work of drafting a code. At the same time he established in Tokio a law school known as the "Department of Justice Annex Law School," in which French law was taught by those same jurists whom he had called from France. About this time there was also established in the University of Tokio a law school in which instruction was given chiefly in English law. It was while teaching in this university law school that Mr. Henry T. Terry (a New York lawyer and an alumnus of Yale College) wrote his memorable book on English law, designed especially for the use of Japanese law students. From henceforth "Terry's Leading Principles of Anglo-American Law" became as familiar to them as are "Blackstone's Commentaries" to the law students of this country.

[2] Those who have followed the course of events in Japan
since the beginning of the new era will remember that upon
the return of Prince Iwakura, in 1873, from his
around-the-world embassy, Mr. Yeto had to withdraw from the
cabinet, owing to a difference of opinion between him and
the Prince with regard to the Corean problem then pending.
Returning to his native province, Saga, he tried to raise
troops against the government (to carry out, of course, his
own convictions in regard to the Corean problem), resulting
in the famous "Saga rebellion" of 1873. Defeated by the
government troops, he betook himself to the interior of the
country in disguise, was arrested, found guilty of treason,
and executed according to law. It is a familiar saying in
Japan that Mr. Yeto died a criminal at the hand of his own
Penal Code.

Thus, side by side there existed in Tokio two law schools in which two distinct systems of law were taught--the English and the French. The primary object of the Department of Justice in establishing the French law school being to make it a training school of judicial officers, the students of that school were, upon graduation, to render, for a limited number of years, an obligatory service to the government in the various capacities of judges, magistrates, and prosecuting attorneys. On the other hand, the University of Tokio being a strictly independent institution in which learning is pursued for the sake of learning, the graduates of the university or English law school were at entire liberty in their choice of professions. Naturally enough the majority of these did not wish to enter the same service which the graduates of the other school were obliged to enter as a matter of fulfilment of contract. Thus it happened that the bench was recruited from the French law school, while the bar was recruited from the English law school. This state of affairs lasted for about twenty years, during which time there was also established a German law school in the University of Tokio. Those who know something about the rivalry that existed in ancient times between the Sabinians and the Proculians, or even about the rivalry which exists to-day between the Yale method and the Harvard method, between the Waylandians and the Langdellians, can readily imagine what intellectual competition was carried on between these three Japanese law schools representing three distinct systems of law.

After twenty years of assiduous labor the Code Commission submitted a draft of a Civil Code to the two Houses of Parliament in 1890, accompanied by the recommendation from the Bureau of Legislation that the draft might receive the parliamentary sanction in such a manner that it might be possible for it to be put in effect by the year 1893. As might have been expected from the personnel of the Commission, consisting, in its conception, of Mr. Yeto Shimpei and the eminent French jurist Prof. Boissonade, etc., the draft was a genuine French code, being almost a literal translation of the Code Napoleon in all its parts excepting the part dealing with the Law of Persons. The question may well be asked why it took the Commission twenty long years to produce this imitation draft code when we know that the draft of the Code Napoleon itself was completed within the short period of four months. The answer seems to be that the Commission spent almost this entire time in their efforts to reconcile the principles of the French Law of Persons with the Japanese laws and customs bearing on that subject.

As has been the case with many other draft codes this draft Civil Code of Japan was destined to go into oblivion. As soon as it was submitted to the Parliament there ensued a most desperate fight against its adoption. As figuring most prominently among the champions of the opposition I may mention the names of Mr. Kazuo Hatoyama, the present Speaker of the House of Commons of the Imperial Japanese Parliament, and His Excellency Mr. Toru Hoshi, the present Japanese minister at Washington.[3] Inspired by these and other eminent jurists of the English school the entire bar was set against the adoption of the draft code. This was not a case of a bar accustomed to one set of rules and formulas opposing the adoption of a new code for fear that they might be compelled to learn a new set of rules and formulas. On the contrary, the bar was composed of men who had studied law as a science, and science for the sake of science. The spirit of their opposition was very plainly shown by the objections they raised against the code. They said:--"The draft Code was a blind imitation of a foreign Code which itself was far from being free from defects. It abounded in definitions, illustrations, and examples, and presented an appearance more becoming to a text-book of law than the Civil Code of a great nation. It went into too minute details and left too little room for voluntary development of jurisprudence. It incorporated, like the French Code, the law of evidence into the body of the Civil Code, which was totally at variance with the modern theory of evidence, being a failure on the part of the Commissioners to distinguish adjective from substantive law. It made too many innovations upon the Law of Persons hitherto obtaining in Japan. It changed the Family Law of the Japanese from the foundation, which was a gross disregard of the historical principle of jurisprudence," etc., etc., etc. Such were some of the grounds upon which they opposed the adoption of the draft code, reminding one of the fight in Europe between the historical school and the analytical school, between the jurists of France and those of Germany; of the fight in Germany between the Code party and the anti-Code party, between Savigny and Thibaut. Who can say, then, that the Japanese are childish imitators of anything that looks well? The fact is that this sort of conflict between the more conservative and the more radical, the more scrupulous and the more unscrupulous, the more positive and the more speculative, is going on all the time.

[3] I make mention of these two gentlemen as representative
of two classes of a fairly large number of Japanese lawyers,
viz., those who have been educated in the United States, and
those who have received their education in England. Mr.
Hatoyama is a D. C. L. of Yale. For nearly ten years
(1880-1889) he was a professor of law in the University of
Tokio Law School, and during most of this time he was also
Dean of the school. Mr. Hoshi is a barrister-at-law of one
of the English Inns of Court. For many years he was regarded
as the leader of the Japanese bar. Like many distinguished
members of the English bar, he is more of a lawyer than of a
jurist.

At last in 1892 the Parliament passed an act deferring the taking effect of the code till 1897 and ordering in the meantime a careful revisal of the draft. A new Commission was appointed which consisted of three most eminent professors of law in Japan, each representing one of the three systems of law recognized there.[4] These Commissioners, aided by a number of efficient assistants, looked into the codes and laws of some fifteen leading American and European states. As representing the French system they consulted the codes of Louisiana, Belgium, France, Holland, Italy, Portugal, and Spain. As representing the German system they consulted the codes and laws of Austria, Montenegro, Prussia, Saxony, Switzerland, and the draft Civil Code of the German Empire. As representing the English system they consulted the leading American and English reports and treatises, the draft Civil Code of New York, and the codes of California and British India.[5]

[4] I refer to Professors Hodzumi, Tomii, and Ume. Prof.
Hodzumi is a barrister-at-law of the Middle Temple, and is
one of the ablest representatives of English law in Japan.
Prof. Tomii is a _Docteur en Droit_ of the Facility of
Lyons, and is by far the ablest expounder of the French
codes in Japan. Prof. Ume, though a bearer of the same
degree from the same Faculty as Prof. Tomii, has attended
several German universities, and is more of the German
school than of the French. The Commission itself consisted
of several other distinguished personages, with the Prime
Minister at the head. But these three professors composed
what was called the "Compilation Committee," so that
practically they were the Commission.

[5] Prof. Ume, a member of the Commission, is responsible
for these statements so far as they relate to the codes and
laws consulted. The classifications, however, are my own.

After four years of the most constant application the Commission submitted in 1896 a revisal of a part of the original draft. Had the Commission had the entire code revised they could not have shown greater wisdom. For the parts incomplete were those dealing with the Family Law and Successions, and the Commission remembered that these were the parts that occasioned the most vital objections to the old code. The Parliament referred the revised draft code to a Committee of their own, of which Mr. Hatoyama, the present Speaker, was made the chairman. After making a careful examination and some important modifications, Mr. Hatoyama reported favorably to its adoption. The Parliament acted according to his advice, and the draft became the law.

In its general arrangement the new code follows what the German jurists call the Pandekten system. It is divided into five general parts. Part I is called "S[=o]soku," or General Laws, and deals with persons, natural and artificial, as the subjects of rights; with things as the objects of rights; and with juristic acts as setting rights in motion. One cannot help being astonished at and gratified with the remarkable extent to which Prof. Holland's views as expressed in his book on jurisprudence seem to be adopted in this part of the code.[6] Part II is called "Bukken," or _Jus in Rem_, corresponding to the Sachenrecht of the German code, and dealing with Possession, Ownership, etc., etc. Part III is called "Jinken," or _Jus in Personam_, corresponding to the Forderungsrecht of the German code, and dealing with General Law of Obligations, with Obligations arising _ex contractu_, _quasi ex contractu_, and _ex delicto_. The General Law of Obligations is taken largely from the Forderungsrecht of the Swiss code. The law of Contracts and Torts is taken entirely from the English law. Parts IV and V, dealing with the Family Law and the Law of Successions respectively, have not as yet been published, for reasons already indicated.

[6] This may be a mere conjecture on my own part. It is
possible that the Commissioners never consulted his book,
though to assert such a thing of them would be an insult to
their scholarship. Be it as it may, it is a fact beyond
question that their arrangement of these topics presents a
remarkable coincidence to that of Prof. Holland's, and this
is a matter upon which every thoughtful Japanese may well
pride himself.

Such is the new Civil Code of Japan, adopted by the Imperial Parliament in its session of 1896. Truly, the year 1896 has been an eventful year for Japan. The war with China had brought glory to her arms. Formosa and numerous other islands had been added to her possessions. The insurgents of Formosa had been pacified. The treaties with the leading nations of the world had been revised, providing for the abolishment of the disgraceful extra-territoriality régime in Japan, to take effect, however, upon the taking effect of the new Civil Code. The last and greatest event of all, the new Code was adopted. With equal propriety, then, the Emperor Mutsuhito might have joined Justinian, in proclaiming:--"Imperatoriam Majestatem non solum armis decoratam, sed etiam legibus opportet esse armatam, ut utrumque tempus et bellorum et pacis recte possit gubernari!"

JOHN RUSKIN:

A TYPE OF TWENTIETH-CENTURY MANHOOD.

BY B. O. FLOWER.

The name John Ruskin is justly entitled to a foremost place among those of the builders of twentieth-century civilization. In him we find a rare combination of genius, culture, and refinement, blended with a tender concern for all earth's unfortunates. He is at once artist, philosopher, and philanthropist; but he is more than these; there is much of the austere religious reformer, giving a serious gravity to all the utterances of the glad-souled artist, a mingling of the spirit of a Savonarola with the imagination of a Turner.

John Ruskin, more than any other man of our time in like station of life, stands for the civilization which we believe is destined to glorify the coming century, for in his life all thought of ease, fame, and preferment,--all consideration of self,--is overmastered by his love for others. Endowed by nature with the imagination of a poet, the eyes of an artist, the brain of a philosopher, the soul of a prophet, and the heart of a man, he has conscientiously employed all his gifts as a sacred trust given to him that he might bless and enlighten his day, and ennoble his civilization for all time.

He was born amid affluence, and received the best educational advantages the age afforded. After graduating from Oxford in 1842, he studied painting under Copley Fielding and J. D. Harding. Subsequently he spent some time in Italy, finishing his art education in the land of earth's greatest painters.

While in college he composed many poems, but on leaving the university he turned his attention to art and prose composition. His "Modern Painters" was justly hailed as one of the noblest works of the century, and instantly placed its author in the ranks of the foremost art critics of the world.

Few if any of his admirers will agree with all his critical views. He not infrequently falls into those errors which we naturally expect to find in a man of intense feeling, of strong conviction, and of vivid imagination. If a positive idea takes possession of his mind, it is liable to give a strong bias to his thought, and in a degree interferes with that nice sense of proportion so essential to a great critic. On more than one occasion Mr. Ruskin has frankly admitted that his views and opinions were erroneous owing to being based on a partial appearance or influenced by pernicious ideas. A notable illustration of his thought being biassed by preconceived ideas is found in the religious opinions put forward in the early edition of parts I and II of "Modern Painters." And in a preface written in 1871 for a revised edition of his works, the philosopher calls attention to his early views, declaring that he was "wholly mistaken" and continuing: "I had been educated in the narrow doctrine of a narrow sect, and had read history obliquely, as a sectarian necessarily must."

Such are the blemishes which occasionally creep into the works of this master mind. They are, however, merely spots on the sun, which do not appear frequently enough to seriously dim the splendor of a critical work which in my judgment surpasses in real value that of any English scholar of the century. "Modern Painters," "The Stones of Venice," "The Seven Lamps," and his other works dealing with art are far more than criticisms; they touch the sleeping soul, they fire the spirit and awaken the conscience. They make the reader feel a new love for nature and art alike, and with this pure and inspiring love comes the desire for more knowledge. They appeal to the spiritual aspirations even more than to the artistic impulses or the intellectual apprehension. The moral exaltation which pervades his writings springs from his profoundly philosophical and religious nature. In all his work, as in his noble life, he has ever been moved by an intense desire to uplift and dignify humanity and to impress upon the public mind the subtle but positive effect for good exerted by true art. "I have had," he tells us in "The Two Paths," "but one steady aim in all I have ever tried to teach, namely, to declare that whatever was great in human art was the expression of man's delight in God's work."

With Ruskin, life is august; its possibilities for good and evil are never forgotten.

"Remember," he urges, "that every day of your life is ordaining
irrevocably for good or evil the custom and practice of your
soul; ordaining either sacred customs of dear and lovely
recurrence, or trenching deeper and deeper the furrows for seed
of sorrow. Now, therefore, see that no day passes in which you do
not make yourself a somewhat better creature.... You will find
that the mere resolve not to be useless, and the honest desire to
help other people, will in the quickest and delicatest ways
improve yourself."

The pleasure which springs from loyalty to duty is strenuously insisted upon by Ruskin, and he, more than any other illustrious man in our time, has reached such heights of unselfishness as to enable him to fully appreciate the unalloyed pleasure which flows from a life of sacrifice. If he is austere, he is also very humane. The fountains of pleasure that he would have us drink deeply from would leave no bitter aftertaste. He delights in no pseudo-pleasure; faithfulness to the highest ideal, untiring effort at complete self-mastery, a settled determination to work for the good of all and to be ever on guard lest by some inadvertence we injure some other living creature,--such are some of the lessons upon which our philosopher insists as essential to man's happiness.

"If," he urges, in writing for the young, "there is any one point
which, in six thousand years of thinking about right and wrong,
wise and good men have agreed upon, or successively by experience
discovered, it is that God dislikes idle and cruel people more
than any others; that His first order is, 'Work while you have
light;' and his second, 'Be merciful while you have mercy.' 'Work
while you have light,' especially while you have the light of
morning. There are few things more wonderful to me than that old
people never tell young ones how precious their youth is....
Remember, then, that I, at least, have warned _you_, that the
happiness of your life, and its power, and its part and rank in
earth or in heaven, depend on the way you pass your days now.
They are not to be sad days; far from that, the first duty of
young people is to be delighted and delightful; but they are to
be in the deepest sense solemn days. There is no solemnity so
deep, to a rightly thinking creature, as that of dawn.... You
must be to the best of your strength usefully employed during the
greater part of the day, so that you may be able at the end of it
to say, as proudly as any peasant, that you have not eaten the
bread of idleness. Then, secondly, I said, you are not to be
cruel. Perhaps you think there is no chance of your being so; and
indeed I hope it is not likely that you should be deliberately
unkind to any creature; but _unless you are deliberately kind to
every creature, you will often be cruel to many_."

Ruskin is often disquieting to conventionalists; he is too candid to be popular with those who make long prayers and descant on charity while they ignore justice. He puts questions to them which they do not want to consider themselves, or to have others consider. By insisting on the substitution of justice for charity, and by taking the teachings of Jesus seriously, he offends the sleek money-changers who occupy choice pews in the modern palaces of ease dedicated to the lowly Nazarene. Such expressions as the following from the magnificent lecture on "Work" prove far less satisfying to this class than the popular sermons they are accustomed to hear:

"It is the law of heaven," says Ruskin, "that you shall not be
able to judge what is wise or easy, unless you are first resolved
to judge what is just, and to do it. That is the one thing
constantly reiterated by our master--the order of all others that
is given oftenest: 'Do justice and judgment.' That's your Bible
order; that's the 'service of God.' The one divine work--the one
ordered sacrifice--is to do justice; and it is the last we are
ever inclined to do. Anything rather than that! As much charity
as you choose, but no justice. 'Nay,' you will say, 'charity is
greater than justice.' Yes, it is greater; _it is the summit of
justice_; it is the temple of which justice is the foundation.
_But you can't have the top without the bottom_; you cannot build
upon charity. You must build upon justice, for this main reason,
that you have not, at first, charity to build with. It is the
last reward of good work. It is all very fine to think you can
build upon charity to begin with; but you will find all you have
got to begin with begins at home, and is essentially love of
yourself.

"You well-to-do people, for instance, who are here to-night will
go to 'Divine Service' next Sunday, all nice and tidy, and your
little children will have their tight little Sunday boots on, and
lovely little Sunday feathers in their hats; and you'll think,
complacently and piously, how lovely they look! So they do; and
you love them heartily, and you like sticking feathers in their
hats. That's all right; that _is_ charity; but it is charity
beginning at home. Then you will come to the poor little
crossing-sweeper got up also--in its Sunday dress--the dirtiest
rags it has that it may beg the better: we shall give it a penny,
and think how good we are. That's charity going abroad. But what
does justice say, walking and watching near us? Christian justice
has been strangely mute, and seemingly blind; and, if not blind,
decrepit this many a day: she keeps her accounts still,
however--quite steadily--doing them at nights, carefully, with
her bandage off, and through acutest spectacles (the only modern
scientific invention she cares about). You must put your ear down
ever so close to her lips to hear her speak; and then you will
start at what she first whispers, for it will certainly be, 'Why
shouldn't that little crossing-sweeper have a feather on its
head, as well as your own child?' Then you may ask justice, in an
amazed manner, How she can possibly be so foolish as to think
children could sweep crossings with feathers on their heads? Then
you stoop again, and justice says--still in her dull, stupid
way--'Then, why don't you, every other Sunday, leave your child
to sweep the crossing, and take the little sweeper to church in a
hat and feather?' Mercy on us (you think), what will she say
next? And you answer, of course, that you don't, because
everybody ought to remain content in the position in which
Providence has placed them.

"Ah, my friends, that's the gist of the whole question. _Did_
Providence put them in that position, or did _you_? You knock a
man into a ditch, and then you tell him to remain content in the
'position in which Providence has placed him.' That's modern
Christianity. You say, 'We did not knock him into the ditch.' How
do you know what you have done or are doing? That's just what we
have all got to know, and what we shall never know until the
question with us every morning, is, not how to do the gainful
thing, but how to do the just thing."

These thoughts suggest to us Ruskin, the social economist, for we must not lose sight of the fact that this greatest of all art critics, this strong, sane ethical philosopher who has emphasized so forcibly the possibilities, duties, and responsibilities of the individual in all his complex relations, is also one of the most enlightened and broad-visioned economists of our wonderful age. By treatises, essays, and letters he has striven for a brighter day for the breadwinners. He has sought to elevate the ideals and tastes of all toilers, while he has labored unremittingly to secure for them that meed of justice which is their right, but which has so long been denied them.

So far back as 1868, when few people of position dared advocate so sane a proposition as the governmental ownership of "natural monopolies," John Ruskin published these bold and thoughtful words in the London _Daily Telegraph_:

The ingenious British public seemed to be discovering to its
cost, that the beautiful law of supply and demand does not apply
in a pleasant manner to railroad transit. But if they are
prepared to submit patiently to the "natural" laws of political
economy, what right have they to complain? The railroad belongs
to the shareholders; and has not everybody a right to ask the
highest he can get for his wares? The public have a perfect right
to walk, or to make other opposition railroads for themselves, if
they please, but not to abuse the shareholders for asking as much
as they think they can get. Will you allow me to put the _real_
rights of the matter before them in a few words?

Neither the roads nor the railroads of any nation should belong
to any private persons. All means of public transit should be
provided at public expense, by public determination, where such
means are needed, and the public should be its own shareholder.
Neither road, nor railroad, nor canal should ever pay dividends
to anybody. They should pay their working expenses, and no more.
All dividends are simply a tax on the traveller and the goods,
levied by the persons to whom the road or canal belongs, for the
right of passing over his property, and this right should at once
be purchased by the nation, and the original cost of the
roadway--be it of gravel, iron, or adamant--at once defrayed by
the nation, and then the whole work of the carriage of persons or
goods done for ascertained prices, by salaried officers, as the
carriage of letters is done now.

Happily these suggestions of the distinguished Englishman have been followed, in part at least, by several enlightened nations, but to the disgrace of our republic, and to the great cost of the producing and consuming masses, we are lagging behind in these respects, becoming a camp-follower instead of a leader in the march of progress, because of the influence exerted by a small class, who have grown so powerful through special privileges given to them by the nation that they now assume to thwart beneficent legislation in order that they may continue to grow richer through this vicious form of governmental paternalism, which places the multitude in the power of a few.

Ruskin's views on money are as disturbing to the usurers and those who through special privileges in money have amassed fortunes of unearned wealth as his sound position on railroads is distasteful to the monopolists who impoverish the producer and consumer by exorbitant rates on transportation.

The great Englishman is also too clear-sighted to accept the fallacious doctrines of the money-changers in regard to the medium of exchange. He is too honest to hold his peace in the presence of a great wrong, hence his definition of money is far more nearly correct than the false and essentially injurious definitions so industriously promulgated by special pleaders for an interested class. "The final and best definition of money," says Ruskin, "is that it is a documentary promise ratified and guaranteed by the nation to give or find a certain quantity of labor on demand."

In 1873 our author carried on a spirited discussion with some conventional economists regarding the money of the rich. One writer undertook to defend the lavish and reckless expenditures of the wealthy by calling to his aid the well-worn plea that money thus paid out finds its way into the pockets of poor families, and that thus through the bounty of the rich the starving are blest. Ruskin, in the course of his reply, observed that, were he a poor man instead of a moderately rich one, he would be sure that the paper referred to would suggest the question:

These _means of living_, which this generous and useful gentleman
is so fortunately disposed to bestow on me--where does he get
them himself?... These are the facts. The laborious poor produce
"the means of life" by their labor. Rich persons possess
themselves by various expedients of a right to dispense these
means of life, and, keeping as much means as they want for
themselves, and rather more, dispense the rest usually only in
return for _more labor from the poor_, expended in producing
various delights for the rich dispenser. The idea is now
gradually entering poor men's minds, that they may as well keep
in their own hands the right of distributing "the means of life"
they produce; and employ themselves, so far as they need extra
occupation, for their own entertainment or benefit, rather than
that of other people.

The conventional economist replied to the question relating to how the rich man got his wealth by stating that it was obtained by the possessor or his ancestors through a "mutually beneficent partnership" between the rich and the poor by which the poor had their share of the joint returns advanced to them. Mr. Ruskin in his reply stated the question again, and then proceeded to answer it by a telling personal illustration. He says:

"Where does the rich man get his means of living?" I don't myself
see how a more straightforward question could be put! so
straightforward, indeed, that I particularly dislike making a
martyr of myself in answering it, as I must this blessed day--a
martyr, at least, in the way of witness; for if we rich people
don't begin to speak honestly with our tongues, we shall, some
day soon, lose them and our heads together, having for sometime
back, most of us, made false use of the one and none of the
other. Well, for the point in question, then, as to means of
living: the most exemplary manner of answer is simply to state
how I got my own, or rather how my father got them for me. He and
his partners entered into what your correspondent mellifluously
styles "a mutually beneficent partnership" with certain laborers
in Spain. These laborers produced from the earth annually a
certain number of bottles of wine. These productions were sold by
my father and his partners, who kept nine-tenths, or thereabouts,
of the price themselves, and gave one-tenth, or thereabouts, to
the laborers. In which state of mutual beneficence my father and
his partners naturally became rich, and the laborers as naturally
remained poor. Then my good father gave all his money to me.

Space forbids a more extended notice of Mr. Ruskin's broad and thoughtful views on economic problems, but before closing this paper, I wish to notice how the life of this great philanthropist has touched and brightened other lives. Many men think noble thoughts and at times are stirred by the loftiest aspirations, but in actual everyday life they sadly fail to live up to their teachings; but he who can and does master himself, he who gives his life for justice and thinks of the welfare of others before he considers himself, has reached a far higher summit than have the most gifted intellects who, while apprehending the beauty of goodness, fail to express that beauty in their daily lives. John Ruskin's life has been at once earnest, pure, and unselfish.

Of the unexampled manner in which he gave up his beautiful wife to his friend--how he quietly secured a divorce that she might become the wife of the man she loved--electing to pass the rest of his life alone rather than destroy her happiness,--these facts are well known, and Mr. Ruskin has been severely criticised for not holding his wife in unwilling bondage. But he was so constituted that it was impossible for him to endure the thought of being directly or indirectly the cause of another's misery.

Another striking illustration of his unselfishness is seen in the manner in which he has disposed of his fortune, which at the time of his father's death amounted to a million dollars. With this money he set about doing good. Poor young men and women who were struggling to obtain an education were helped, homes for working men and women were established, and model apartment-houses were erected. He also promoted a work for reclaiming waste land outside of London. This land was used for the aid of unfortunate men who wished to rise again from the state into which they had fallen through cruel social conditions and their own weaknesses. It is said that this work suggested to General Booth his colonization farms. Ruskin has also ever been liberal in aiding poor artists, and has done much to encourage the artistic taste among the young. On one occasion he purchased ten fine water-color paintings by Holman Hunt for $3,750, to be hung in public schools of London.

By 1877 he had disposed of three-fourths of his inheritance, besides all the income from his books. But the calls of the poor and the plans which he wished to put into operation looking toward education and ennobling the toilers, and giving to their gloomy lives something more of sunshine and joy, were such that he determined to dispose of all the remainder of his wealth except a sum sufficient to yield him fifteen hundred dollars a year on which to live.

Of all English writers of our century no one has left a more valuable literary legacy than has John Ruskin, but the splendid and voluminous works of his brain are even less priceless than the example of his wonderful life. That he is in the shadow in his old age is by no means strange; a nature so sensitive, so finely strung, so keenly alive to the sufferings of others on every hand, has necessarily felt what the well-kept and self-engrossed animals around him knew nothing of. Indeed, just here we find the chief reason why the finest natures suffer so keenly in this age of heartless greed, self-absorption, and gold madness, of wanton extravagance and biting poverty, of widespread misery and growing discontent. Sensitive natures who are spiritually alive to the misery around them must suffer while they sow the seed-thoughts of a new day--suffer uncomplainingly until the waiting-time of this great transition period has passed.

In John Ruskin we find great breadth of thought and a wide range of intellectual vision, going hand in hand with a profound philosophical grasp of life's deepest problems; and, what is more, these excellences are rendered luminous by the influence of an enlightened soul. His life has been characterized by nobility of purpose, purity of thought, a passion for nature and art, and an enthusiasm for humanity.

THE SINGLE TAX IN OPERATION.

BY HON. HUGH H. LUSK,

_Ex-Member of the New Zealand Legislature._

Few if any of the various economic theories that have been advanced, claiming attention in virtue of their practical benefit to the existing conditions of human affairs, have gained so immediate or so widespread an acceptance amongst intelligent persons as that which is familiarly known as "the single-tax" theory propounded by Mr. Henry George. In all parts of the English-speaking world, at least, the theory has obtained many and enthusiastic disciples, who have believed, and probably still believe, that they find in Mr. George's doctrine a panacea for many of the most apparent of the evils which oppress society not less under our advanced civilization than they did at any former period of the world's history. It may be said, indeed, that we hear less of Mr. George and the single tax now than we did a few years ago, and from this some will argue that the idea has died or is dying out of men's minds; this, however, is almost certainly a mistake.

In the history of any great system of alleged reform there may be traced at least three distinct stages which are marked by different degrees of prominence in the public regard. The first of these may be called the period of promulgation, the second that of fermentation, and the third that of experiment. If the evils proposed to be reformed are manifest and widely recognized the first of these stages is almost certain to excite wide attention and much controversy on both sides. The earliest stage, that of mere discussion, however, soon wears itself out, and the theorists who argued in favor of, as well as those who argued against, the new system, having exhausted their ingenuity in argument, turn for the most part to something newer, and let the matter drop.

Then follows the period of incubation. Removed from the din of controversy a certain number of people are always found who are keenly sensible of the evils which the new system was supposed to cure, and who continue to meditate upon the possibility of its possessing the power to do so. These persons, it may be, make but little noise in the arena either of literature or politics, but they are not the less active, nor perhaps in the end the less really influential, on that account. Their influence is of the sort that depends upon a solid conviction, right or wrong, that the theory which they support is the true one; and as long as the evils, which the system they adhere to professes to cure, continue to exist, so long their influence may be expected to increase.

It is the third or experimental stage which is the critical one, and generally speaking it is well when that stage can be reached without any needless delay. By experiment alone can the value of such theories be tested to the satisfaction of the practical mind of humanity, and it is only as the result of a trial that men will either consent to admit the value of a proposed reform or to abandon a specious theory to which they have once given their adherence.

The single-tax theory of political economics advanced by Henry George, having passed through the first of these three stages with something more than the usual publicity and controversy, has already been in its second stage for a good many years. The cessation of active discussion, which appears to some people to argue that it has passed into oblivion, or is at any rate well on the way toward such a consummation, is only evidence that it is in its second, or fermentation, period. Nobody can pretend for an instant that any one of the evils pointed out by Henry George as the things that called loudly for reform, have actually been reformed since the date of the publication of his original essay on "Progress and Poverty." No reasonable man can doubt that many, if not all of these evils, ought in some way to be dealt with, and if possible amended. While such is the case it is impossible wholly to get rid of the theory which trenchantly pointed out those evils and professed at least to offer an effective remedy.

Under these conditions few things could be more desirable than that the matter should be advanced to the third of its natural stages by being submitted to the critical test of experience. Nothing short of this will ever satisfy the mass of mankind of the feasibility of the system proposed, or of its adequacy to meet the evils complained of; nothing less will set free the minds of many thousands of intelligent persons to inquire into other methods of reform than the fair trial of the single-tax system, and its failure to cure the evils which its author expected it to cure. The difficulty, which indeed is by no means a slight one, is to find a favorable arena in which the experiment can be tried, and a community prepared to make the experiment.

It must be remembered that, if the evils aimed at by the proposed remedy of the single tax are great and far-reaching, its complete application could hardly, in most communities, amount to less than a practical revolution. Striking as it does at the whole received theory of land tenure, as sanctioned throughout the civilized world by the practice of many centuries, it arrays against itself the prejudices of the most influential classes in every long-established community, and its introduction is necessarily surrounded by difficulties and at least apparent injustices which must indefinitely delay any attempt to bring it to the test of experiment there. The only reasonable hope, indeed, of reducing the theory of the single tax to the plane of experience is to find a country not yet fully committed to any other system, and occupied by a self-governing people sufficiently intelligent to perceive the evils of other existing systems of land tenure, and sufficiently enterprising to be willing to experiment in this direction.

It may perhaps prove of no little benefit to other communities that one self-governing country has been found which has been both able and willing to make trial of the principle which has been so strongly contended for by the author of "Progress and Poverty," and by those who have seen in his proposals a way of escape from many of the most serious difficulties that beset civilized communities at the present day. There is probably no other country which is to-day in so good a position to enter upon experimental legislation in this and other directions as the British colony of New Zealand. An island community separated by more than a thousand miles from its nearest neighbors, possessed of practically unlimited powers of self-government, and inhabited by a prosperous and intelligent population, substantially of unmixed British race, there is little either in their external relations or internal circumstances to prevent the colonists of New Zealand making many experiments in economic legislation. And during the last quarter of a century this fact has been fully realized by the people and their leaders. They have established a system of education which is at once more popular, free, and comprehensive than even the most complete systems in force in this country; they have placed local option in the control of the liquor traffic upon a broad and entirely popular basis, which has rendered New Zealand the most sober and law-abiding of communities, without introducing the doubtful principle of prohibition; they have thrown open the franchise unreservedly to all persons of full age and competent education, without regard to sex; and they have successfully introduced life insurance and trusteeship of estates by the government, as well as many others of the proposals which are generally comprehended under the term "State Socialism."

It is by no means surprising that a community which has made so many experiments in legislation should have turned its attention to the question which may perhaps be looked upon as most specially inviting attention from social reformers in a new country. The circumstances of New Zealand in relation to the land were from the first exceptional. In every other country occupied by savage tribes in modern times which has been taken possession of for purposes of settlement by people of European race, the ownership of the soil has been assumed, as a matter of course, to vest not in the aboriginal natives, but in the intruding settlers. Spain, England, France, Holland, Germany, and the United States have one after the other adopted this convenient theory of international morality, and entered with a cool assumption of right upon the inheritance of their comparatively helpless predecessors. In New Zealand the conditions of the country and its inhabitants rendered this popular system wholly inapplicable. The area of the country was limited, to an extent which rendered it impossible to adopt the fiction which has lain at the root of nearly all the forcible confiscation of the territory of native tribes, namely, that they could make no profitable use of so great an area. The islands of New Zealand contain only a little more land than Great Britain itself, and sixty years ago, when England first thought of annexing them to her empire, the native inhabitants numbered little if anything short of a hundred thousand souls. They were besides a settled people who cultivated the soil, and moreover they were warlike, and formidable to any invader. In consequence of these things a wholly new departure was made in the case of New Zealand. The country was not occupied on any plea of discovery or of conquest, as had been done in so many parts of the world before, but the sovereignty of the islands was obtained by treaty with the chiefs of the native tribes, upon the distinct guarantee that the full rights of the aboriginal inhabitants to their lands should be recognized and protected by England against all comers.

From the first, therefore, the lands of New Zealand have been purchased by the government before they could be disposed of to the settlers. The community had no vast tracts of land to dispose of which had cost nothing but the expense of survey, but as a matter of fact had to look on every acre as an investment which must be sold for a certain definite price unless the transaction was to result in an absolute loss of money to the people at large. It may well have happened that the result of so unusual a condition of affairs was to lead the community to regard the public lands in a somewhat different light from other people. At any rate it led to all lands being sold for a price which prevented their being lightly esteemed or as a rule held as freeholds in large areas. So much was this the case that from the first nearly all pastoral lands were held under leases from the government at fixed annual rentals. Fully forty years ago the southern, and larger, of the islands was nearly all purchased from the comparatively small native population by the government, and in that island a very large proportion of the land has always been let on lease for grazing. In the northern island nearly one-half of the land even now belongs to the original native owners, and much of this area is leased from them by Europeans for farming or grazing purposes.

In this way it has happened that in New Zealand, more than in any other country occupied by people of European race, the inhabitants have grown accustomed to the idea of holding land on lease, with the people at large, as represented by the government, for landlord. Under these conditions it is easy to understand how the doctrine of the single tax found a peculiarly congenial home in the minds of New Zealand public men. It is true that large areas of the lands of the country had been disposed of in freehold to settlers. It is true that the freehold tenure of the native inhabitants had in a certain sense been guaranteed to them by treaty, at least in so far that it should never be taken from them without compensation. It is true that the mass of the people were very fully possessed by the apparently almost universal preference for the idea of a freehold over every other tenure of lands so far as they were personally concerned. But, on the other hand, they had grown accustomed to the practice of holding areas of land on lease both from the government and from the native owners, whose tenure was not individual, but tribal, and they had learned the lesson that there was no intolerable hardship in the system.